Secrets and Sacrifices
by MillieKittan
Summary: Max lives a secret double life, unbeknown to her long time friends at school. When Nick begins attending the same school as her, their lives begin to entwine closely...full summary inside. AU. No Wings. Fax fluff. Violence, language, maybe other Ms later.
1. Maxine 'Max' Martinez

_Max lives a secret double life, unbeknown to her long time friends at school. When Nick begins attending the same school as her, their lives begin to entwine closely, more so than both teens dared to believe they could when the friendship first blossomed. Will Max let him into her double life, or keep him shut out like the rest? Will Nick finally let someone in to see what goes on behind closed doors? M for language now, violence and insinuated rape later on.

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**This will be updated once a week, because its the fic i write when I get stuck writing The Road to Heaven =P So it gets bits added quite a lot while my brain ticks over. Probably on Fridays, if not then at some point over each weekend.**

**AU. No wings. My original story. JP owns the names and their personalities. And the fact Iggy is blind. Possibly a few other things if i remember what they are.

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**Part 1  
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A slender, pale arm ventured out of the bundle of blankets on the bed, aiming to hit the alarm clock rousing its owner from her slumber. After a few missed attempts, her thin fingers finally found the snooze button on top if the offending device and clicked it, retracting her arm back into the warmth of bed for a few more minutes.

When doing that five times led to her not being able to fall back to sleep, Max sat up straight in bed and instead turned the alarm clock off completely. She leant forwards a little and rubbed her eyes slowly, crossing her legs under the blankets and yawning before checking the time.

**04:57**

Wiping a hand across her face, Max yawned into her palm. Another day. It came too fast. Reluctantly, she swung her legs out of bed and pulled herself to her feet, slipping them into her slippers before padding into the bathroom.

Her chocolate brown eyes blinked sleepily as she reached behind the bathroom door to grab her robe, taking a glance at herself in the mirror as she tired secured the robe around her. She ran a finger along the bags under her eyes, letting a soft sigh escape her lips. There'd been so much to do recently, she hadn't had time to catch up on her sleep. Her dirty blonde hair looked scraggy and un-kept. She leaned in closer, examining he pale skin and slightly bloodshot eyes.

Early night tonight. Teacher's would start commenting soon.

Stepping softly down the stairs to the kitchen, Max pulled her favourite mug out of the cupboard with one hand and switched the trusty coffee machine on with the other, plopping two sugars into the empty mug and placing it under the not water nozzle.

She quickly headed out to the utility room and set about her usual morning tasks. Clothes needed to be removed from the dryer and folded on the table, ready to be put away. Clothes in the washer needed to be moved to the dryer. Dirty clothes needed to be separated into colours and a cycle put on. By the time she was finished, it was almost 05:25, and the coffee machine was blinking impatiently.

Pressing the 'pour' button on the coffee machine, it whirred into life, kicking up a small fuss before spitting some black coffee into the mug. Max pulled it from under the nozzle and stirred it, taking a quick sip.

No rest for the exhausted.

Placing the coffee mug back down on the counter, Max quickly set about getting out some boxes of cereal and placing them in exact spots on the part of the table not occupied by clothing. Milk was the next one to be set up, followed by glasses for juice.

To someone who didn't know Max's family, it could strike them that she was a little extreme, getting up at 5am just to do the washing. Not to mention exhibiting OCD traits with the extent to which she placed all the items with care around the table. Of course, the more observant would realise that she only did so for two of the place setting, of which there were four in total.

Those people would probably still be asking 'why?', though.

The answer isn't instantly obvious as her family make their way down for breakfast, sitting down in their usual seats and pouring their cereal. Each child and the adult present pick up their cereal with ease, pouring themselves a serving as they chatter about the weather or the news, something normal.

The evidence is when the eldest child reached out to where the milk usually was, but instead grabbed air. He furrowed his brow slightly, and felt about on the table a little, in case his aim was slightly off.

"Sorry," Angelica, the youngest child, held the milk jug out to him, gently tapping the side of his hand with the cool glass. Iggy shook his head to say it was no issue, tracing his fingers very lightly over the object and finding the handle before taking it from her.

It was _then_ people twigged Iggy was blind.

Although it didn't look like it, Max and Iggy were related. He looked a lot like his father, fair skin and strawberry blonde hair, the only thing he got from his mother being the straightness of the hair on his head. He had his father's sense of humour, his smile, his bright blue eyes.

The blindness was a genetic gift he could have done without, but he didn't get a choice in the matter. Tests when he was a baby confirmed the boy was blind. It was depressing for both parents, that their second was afflicted with such a problem, and they decided not to have any more kids.

When Max was nine, Gary was brought into the world.

Now eight years old, Gary did look a lot like his dad. Blonde curls abounded on the boys head, and he had the same eye colour and tonnes of freckles across his face. The shape of his face was from his mother, slightly rounded and childish despite his skinny body, and his hair colour was somewhere between the two genetics in a sandy blonde.

Gary was a very sickly child. He spent a lot of time down the doctors as a baby and young boy, and even now had a lot of sick days off of school. He seemed to catch every disease going under the sun, was allergic to almost everything that touched his skin, and intolerant to a lot of foods. It lead to him affectionately being called 'the Gasman', because of the side effects.

Two years later little Angelica was born. She looked so much like Gasman it was unreal, still with resemblance to other siblings, but they could have been twins to the outside world. Angel sported lovely sandy blonde curls and her mother's baby face, her fathers bright blue eyes shining out and a few freckles banded across her nose.

Her name said it all. She was a little angel in every sense of the word, in the house, at school, even to strangers. She liked to be able to help and was always trying to even if you didn't let her. She was nicknamed Angel for that reason.

Max quickly shot upstairs to get dressed as they ate, getting ready to put on a mask for school. No one, not even the friends she'd known for years, knew how much stuff she did at home. She didn't want the pity, the so called understanding. She wanted to be normal, to have friends and joke and laugh with them. So she kept her life a secret, pretending she stayed up all night on the internet rather than doing the housework.

She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in the fitted red and blue checked shirt hanging open over a black corset top. The top cut just above her belly button, showing a small amount of skin until it reached her dark blue jeans, held up by a black belt since they were slightly too baggy for her. After dabbing a little concealer on the bags under her eyes, she pulled on a pair of black sandals and quickly ran a brush through her hair, making a note to wash it when she got home, before picking up her bag and jumping back down the stairs.

The others were all getting ready to leave for school, Gasman and Angel in their school uniforms. Iggy had a uniform as well, a navy blue blazer with white shirt and black trousers. His school had a well known uniform, so people wouldn't feel so awkward if they were asked to do something by a child wearing one.

It was for a blind school after all, they need assistance sometimes.

"Alright, out the door in two minutes guys, we're going to be late!" Max breezed back into the kitchen and gathered up the dirty plates, plonking them in the empty sink to deal with later. Noting her dad was gone, she made sure all the chairs were back where they should be. If anything was out of place he might fall over it and hurt himself.

She found him in the living room, trying to find the remote for the TV. He loved listening to the TV, said he could imagine what all the people looked like by their voices, what they were like, sometimes even why they acted that way in the first place. It was really strange.

"Carol's coming round at twelve," Max reminded him as she found and gave him the remote. He smiled slightly and clicked the 'on' button with expert precision. "She's going to make lunch. Ask if she minds getting the dishes done too, okay?"

"Ok." He placed the remote down on the sofa arm, closing his eyes as he leant back against the chair as he held a hand out to her. Max smiled slightly as raised her own, trickling her fingers over the back of his hand as she did every time she left him alone. She saw him frown, and mimicked it herself.

"I'll ask how much it is to get her to do the washing and stuff as well, maybe make dinner to reheat later," Her dad opened his sightless eyes and looked at Max with incredible accuracy, just a few inches off staring right into her own. "So you can get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Dad." Max said softly, taking his hand in hers and gently rubbing the back with her thumb.

"No, you're not. You're shaking." That was the main problem with concealer: It doesn't fool the blind.


	2. Nickolas 'Nick' Arnold

**Yeah. I said Fridays. But I figured I should get the introductions done now, and then start updating on a regular schedule. So, here's Fang's introduction, with a slightly more normal name that that, yay falling back on Nick. But he'll get the Fang bit back sooner or later, when i find a way to fit it in. So, here it is.**

**R&R Appreciated =3  
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**Part 2**

Nickolas had watched the sun come up listening to his mum and step dad arguing in the room just next to his. He wasn't really listening to the fight, but could pick out his mothers soft and gentle replies against the hung over shouting of his step father. This was the forth night this week he'd come home drunk out of his mind.

Sighing he rolled over and glanced at the clock. 06:29. His alarm would go off in a minute. He wondered why he even bothered to set one up, considering he was always kept awake by those two or woken up at a stupid hour when his step dad decided he was being 'a lazy sod' and wanted him up and doing something at six in the morning.

They'd been in his household for three weeks, with him and his daughter. Her name was Nadia, a dark skinned girl just like her father, the mass of frizz on her head seemingly inherited from her mother, wherever she was now. She was nice. A little over talkative, but nice. This morning he was finally supposed to start school again.

Nick didn't look much like his mother. All he had were her deep brown eyes. The rest of his features were given to him by his dad. A slender yet strong jaw, thin face and body, tan skin. Even his hair, so dark brown it was mistaken for black, was from his dad.

When he looked in the mirror, it made him sick.

His father had left his mum just three months before, after a seventeen year engagement. He'd cheated on her with a girl from Nick's _class_, a young girl who hit seventeen just before he announced he was leaving and wanted nothing more to do with them. He'd then moved in with the adolescent who was born on the same hospital ward as Nick, just months apart.

The girl's parents were probably _ecstatic._

Nick had always been a little withdrawn, having had a bad relationship with his father from the start it was easier to shut up and nod an agreement whenever he said anything. It saved arguments, shouting, running away, all that typical teenager stuff. None of it helped solve an argument, so it was a lot easier to just go along with it.

When he finally left, the house was very different. His mum would constantly be bursting into tears, or he'd find her up late at night, curled up on the sofa, sobbing her eyes out. He hated seeing her like that, wanted to kill the bastard for making her cry.

She wouldn't look at him for two weeks because he reminded her of _him._

Then she met a guy down the coffee shop, a few days after she started going into work again. He was tall, dark skinned, and dressed to impress. They had a meal together the following evening. Turned out he was in town for a meeting, that he owned a chain of stores across America that he didn't have to do much work for, just keep it from going into turmoil when times got rough.

His mum was all too willing to jump into another relationship. She needed the stability, convinced herself this was the only way to get over her last almost-husband. When he proposed just a month after meeting her, she threw herself at him.

Just three weeks later a wedding took place in a small registry office. No one witnessed the marriage besides Nadia and the man's own mother. Nick wasn't even told it was happening, because of the doubts he'd voiced to his mother she'd spouted to the man she adored so much. He'd made sure Nick wasn't present, convinced her he didn't need to be.

When he got home from another torturous round of teasing at school that day, he was told they were moving. That was good thing to him, considering all the people at school shouted rude remarks at him about his father being a paedophile, saying it probably runs in the family.

A fresh start was just what he needed.

He didn't, however, know it meant moving in with the new husband. He learned about the wedding when he got to their house. To say the least he was less than accepting of the new circumstances, and arguments were commonplace. He withdrew further into himself the day he almost punched the guy's lights out, refusing to communicate with people, let alone argue with them, for fear if what he might do.

Then it started. Barely a week after they moved in, the true side of his new step father came out. He was an alcoholic, would come home often drunk out of his head and bang about loudly, or argue with whoever was still up. Nadia made herself scarce, obviously used to his drunken phases. Nick's mother wasn't so familiar with the drill.

Nick had come down a few times in the morning to see her covering up a bruise with foundation, trying to stop the tears in her eyes from spilling over and washing it away. He didn't say anything at first, didn't want the confrontation despite the overwhelming need to protect his mother. She was already broken, fragile.

And she didn't deserve to be some prick's punching bag.

Second week there, Nick was still awake when he heard his step father stumble into the door, already shouting about something stupid. His mother's soft, gentle words floated about, but he didn't respond to them at all, just kept ranting and raving about some guy down the pub.

Nick pulled himself out of bed and padded to the top of the stairs, listening as his step father carried on and on. Then his tone of voice changed, accusing, telling his mum she'd been having an affair with the guy in the pub, that it was all her fault. Her own voice changed to a hint of fear, a hint of pleading, trying to ward off what was almost inevitable.

He'd rushed down the stairs to try and split them up, ready to bash the life out of the guy about to beat his mother again. He didn't remember a thing of what happened after he reached the kitchen, waking up in hospital the next day looking like a car had hit him. The doctor told him someone had attacked him, that false memories of the events and amnesia were commonplace with this kind of incident.

Nick wasn't stupid. He knew who put him in there. The same guy that was holding his mother's hand by his bedside, looking concerned and comforting her. His glance caught Nick's a few times, cold and hard, uncaring.

He should go into TV. He was a good actor.

His mum hadn't said a word about the incident afterward, and from there on Nick's only communication with the outside world was his blog and Nadia, who was happy enough to go out with and talk to him on a regular basis. He and his mother barely spoke, just exchanging glances or single words to get their point across.

He missed the bubbly woman she used to be.

He smacked the alarm on its first ring and threw his covers off, getting straight to his feet and heading to the bathroom. Steam still floated out of the open door, showing Nadia had exited at 6.30, as the rule stated. Each person got fifteen minutes, starting from six fifteen. First come first serve. Nick darted inside and locked the door as his parent's door opened.

Sure, he'd avoided his step dad as much as possible since being in the hospital, but some things he couldn't avoid. He still jumped into the fray if he took a swing a his mother, had given the guy a few bruises himself in defence and received a few in return. Nothing anywhere near as severe as the time he had to go to hospital, superficial wounds and bruises.

He was trying to win authority, but Nick wouldn't let him.

Pulling on an outfit consisting mainly of black and roughly drying his hair with a towel, Nick took a quick glance in the mirror, cataloguing the small cuts and bruises on his face. Ones he was going to claim were from fights in his old school. The one inches below his left eye was made by his step father's car key, when they got into an argument going to the store. The larger healing gash on his cheek below it was from a dinner knife, when they disagreed about something trivial on the television. The bruise on his other cheek had faded, no longer visible. That was a hit he'd taken for his mum last weekend.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Nick noted he could no longer hear arguing. Then the bathroom door slammed shut. At the bottom he pulled on his shoes and checked himself in the full length mirror in the hall. His jeans were black and baggy, being held onto his slender frame by a thick black belt. Over that hung a loose black shirt, adorned with a red skull.

He wasn't one for the whole Goth click thing. He just liked black. That and he figured through experience that people actually seemed to fear him when he added a scowl to this kind of outfit. Of course, deep inside, he didn't want to scare people away. Friends was never a bad thing. But if they got close to him, they might come home with him one evening, and have to meet his step dad.

He didn't want anyone getting _hurt_, that was the important thing.

Nadia was already downstairs, pouring herself a glass of orange juice as she chewed a mouthful of cereal. She had music blaring out of the speakers, to which she began miming along to after finishing her mouthful. It was a few seconds before she looked up and noticed Nick, who'd reached the fridge and was pouring a glass of juice himself.

"Hey Nick! Isn't this great? We get to go to the same school together! So we get to, like, meet up at lunch and stuff, and share things. Oh! I wonder if you'll get a locker near mine! Then we could meet there and walk home together every day. Not that we couldn't walk home together if we don't have lockers near each other, but it would make it really easy to wouldn't it? Though I get invited round people's houses a lot, so you'd have to walk home alone somet-"

Nick nudged her with her elbow, to which she apologised and covered her mouth. She was nicknamed Nudge by her father because that's what you had to do to shut her up half the time, remind her to breathe. He'd never lay a finger on his daughter in any other way, she was his shining star.

"Morning," Nick ignored the voice coming from the entrance to the kitchen, placing the juice back in the fridge and downing half the glass at once. Nudge squealed and ran over to hug her dad, who wrapped his arms around her in turn and squeezed her tight. Nick turned and grabbed a piece of toast from the toaster, downing the rest of the juice and putting the glass by the sink, making his way to leave.

"Wash it up." There was that voice again. The one he was ignoring with every fibre of his being. He took a bite out of the toast and passed his step dad into the hallway, picking up the school bag he'd left packed by the door. Nick heard him walk up behind him but didn't react besides pulling the door open.

That was, until a hand stopped it opening any further.

"Listen to your father." The voice had turned hard and steel edged, anger bubbling beneath the surface. That was the problem with Mike, his step father. He wasn't just a violent drunk, but violent in general. Nick turned around to face him, narrowing his eyes at the man he despised almost as much as, if not more than, his biological father.

"You're _not_ my father." With that he slid through the tiny gap, having to pull a little harder to get his bag through the hole between the door and its frame. Being skinny had its advantages sometimes. He heard Mike mutter a curse word under his breath before calling to Nudge, slamming the door behind him.

Nick shouldered his bag as he trudged down the sideway, hoping to God Mike wouldn't take his anger out on his mum.


	3. A Friendship Formed

**Ok, so this is changing to an update a day until I run out of buffer, then a once a week deal, whenever I get an update finished and re read a couple of hundred times. Enjoy =P got about fours days of updates already written.**

**Starsky: Thanks for reviewing =3 Yeah. He kinda got a raw bargain in this story, poor guy. Considering the rating for this one I can write whatever the heck I want, so I'm still debating some of the scenes I could put in this thing. My friend wants me to write them, typically, because they can happen in the real world. Not sure I'm up to it to be honest lol. Said friend is also why the mean popular girl in this is called 'Lissa'. Don't bite me =o bite her!  


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**Part 3**

"Have a good day at school sweetie," Max smiled, giving Angel a peck on the head and smoothing her curls. She beamed up at her, nodding enthusiastically as she itched to get into school to play with her friends. Max caught Gasman before he could run away, planting a kiss on his curly head.

"Ewwww, Max!" He squirmed in her grasp and wriggled away, wiping his forehead on his jumper sleeve. She smiled and gave him a playful punch on the arm before ruffling his hair. He smiled up at her, wiping his jumper sleeve on his trousers _just _to be sure all the girl germs were gone.

"Go on, off you go." Both kids scampered into school calling out to their friends, not looking back as Max watched them until they were well within the school grounds. Smiling slightly to herself, Max ignored some of the odd stares mothers were giving her and took Iggy's arm once again, leading him further up the road to his own school.

"Alright Igs, this is where you get off." Max let go of his arm in exactly the same spot as usual, lightly stroking the back of his hand. He smiled almost directly at her, just a little over her shoulder, as he readjusted the bag on his back.

"What? I'm the only sibling that doesn't get a kiss?" Max rolled her eyes, saying at exactly the same time, "I'm rolling my eyes, Ig." He cracked a cheeky grin, turning on the spot to head into the school.

"See you after school!" He shouted over his shoulder, stepping towards the doors as if he could see them clearly. He even got up the steps into the main doors without a hitch. He really did act like he could _see, _it was so easy to forget he was blind sometimes.

Max smiled slightly to herself as she turned to trudge to her own school, a twenty minute walk up the road from here. The kids were great. Sure they weren't her kids, but she loved them like they were her own, and she was pretty sure they loved her back.

After all, the had no real mother to love them anymore.

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"It was _sooooooo_ fun! He had he whole house to himself at the weekend, so threw this massive party. I didn't see you there Max. Didn't you go?"

Max looked up from pulling her books out of her bag. It was chemistry, first lesson on a Monday morning, and she was seated next to a couple of her friends. Of course she hadn't been there. She'd been at home, doing the laundry for the next day.

Dirty uniforms didn't wash themselves.

"Nope. My dad wouldn't let me go. Something about drinking and other 'activities'." She rolled her eyes for emphasis, and both her gal pals started giggling uncontrollably at the thought. As the dived back into discussion about the increasingly raunchy sounding pool party they attended that weekend, the teacher walked in with a pupil Max didn't recognise in tow. He took a quick glance over the pupils in the room, taking in the giggling and general chatter. His chocolate eyes met Max's for a few seconds before he looked back at the floor. The teacher coughed loudly, and everyone fell silent.

"Class." The teacher raised a hand and clapped it on the boy's shoulder. Max creased her eyebrows when she saw him tense very slightly, the muscles in his arm seeming to constrict at the contact. "This is Nickolas. He's just transferred here from way down south. Treat him nice, alright?"

Hushed discussions broke out all over the classroom as Nick was given his books and told a few things about the school. Gossip quickly began to spread as book after book was added to the pile in his arms.

"What do you think Max?" She snapped her head back round to look at her friends, who were both staring at her with huge, innocent eyes and wide smiles. She knew from experience that wasn't a good look to get from them.

"Think about..?" She answered casually, pulling her books from her bag and placing them on the desk, ducking again to fish about for a pen. If Gasman and Iggy had gone through her bag to steal the spring from her pen again…

"The new guy. Isn't he _cute_?" Max stopped searching for a second, tilting her head to look at them inquisitively from under the table. They still had those wide eyed smiles on. She was pretty sure they'd forgotten to blink for the last few seconds.

"Is that _all_ you two think about?" She asked incredulously, going back to searching. Finally her hand closed around her pen and she sat up straight, placing it next to her exercise books and pulling her bag onto her lap to zip it back up.

"Do _you_ think he's cute?" Max rolled her eyes. Brilliant. They were going to try and set her up with the new guy. They did this every once in a while, because apparently 'not having a boyfriend at her age was like a fish without gills'.

To her it was more a fish without a bicycle.

She didn't have a boyfriend because she didn't have the time or energy to deal with one. She basically ran her house single handed, minus the agency woman who looked after her dad while she was at school. She could imagine taking her boyfriend home and watching his face as she set about giving the younger ones baths.

"Because you were like, staring at him for a few minutes there." The other one chipped in, a hint of sweetness in her voice clouded by the scheming mind of an intelligent blonde. If she wasn't so good at pretending to be normal, she might have actually been scared by her just then.

"I was _not_ staring at him."

"You so _were_. Oh, look, he's coming oooover~!" Max's head shot up to see Nick walking up the centre isle to their seats at the back of the class. He was casually ignoring the whispers as twenty odd pairs of eyes followed him to the back of the class, burning a hole in his back. Janine, the smart blonde with a twinkle in her eye, pulled her chair in quickly and gave the boy a wide smile. This action was repeated with incredible accuracy by Madison as he slid behind Janine's chair, towards the chair on the end of their row. He met the third girl's eyes as she looked at him, taking in his appearance.

He wasn't supermodel striking, but Max had to admit he was kind of cute. He had a slender face to match his figure, a sharp jaw line that made him look kind of oppressive, scary. His hair was incredibly dark brown, almost black, and styled so the bangs hung just over his eyes. She noted the healing cut and small scar on his left cheek, briefly wondering where he got them from, before she was drawn to his eyes. They were chocolate brown, soft, seemingly endless as he stared right back at her…

"Max," she pulled her gaze away to look back at a whispering Madison, who was biting her lip to hold in giggles with a huge smile across her face. "You need to pull your chair in…"

Nick raised an eyebrow as the girl dubbed 'Max' went bright red and scooted her chair right in. She'd been staring at him a good few seconds before, a kind of lost, happy half smile playing on her lips. He mumbled a thanks and slipped past her, sliding into the only chair in the class without an occupant.

After settling and figuring out what books he needed for this lesson and which he'd be able to stow away for now, he took a quick glance at Max as he shoved the excess in his bag. She was staring forwards, as she had been since she'd scooted in. Her cheek was still flushed pink as she focused intently on the teacher, her deep brown eyes staring forwards as he mumbled something about chlorine. She looked sweet, playing with her pen nervously as she tried to keep her full attention on the front of the class.

Looking back at the teacher, Nick clicked his pen on and started scrawling what he had had written on the board. The last thing he needed was a love struck adolescent hanging around him like a bee to honey. _Especially_ if she was sweet.

He'd feel twice as bad if she got hurt.

"Alright!" The teacher tapped the board with his pen to do a final full stop, turning on the spot as he clicked the lid back on. "Since we finally have an even number of students in the class, I propose we do a practical lesson. Blow a few things up."

All the guys slapped high fives while the girls started pairing themselves up, so they didn't end up with someone they didn't want to be with. Max took a glance at Madison and Janine, who instantly locked arms and nodded their heads towards Nick. She looked around at him, noting he was still writing what was on the board, not paying attention. Glancing back, Madison gave her a thumbs up while Janine waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

She was _so_ going to kill them later.

"Hey Nick." All three heads span round to look at the girl standing in front of Nick, leaning forwards on the table as she spoke to him. Enter Lissa, the resident slut of class 12G. He looked up quickly, making his eyes bypass the cleavage she was flashing at him to look her in the eyes.

She was a redhead, her long, straight hair flowing down over her shoulders as she leant forwards. A smile curved her lips as she batted her eyelids at him, the band of freckles across her nose making her face look even paler than it really was. She folded her arms and leant down on them, pressing her cleavage on top of her arms to make them more obvious.

"Me and my boyfriend just broke up…" Max rolled her eyes and flopped back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. The girl broke up with boyfriends every other day, simply because she saw something 'hotter' she just 'had to have a piece of'. She had the assets to get what she wanted, that was the problem. The assets Nick was ignoring with incredible ease as he focused on her face.

"But he was also my lab partner. So I was wondering if you'd, you know, help a gal out?" She smiled at him and leant a little closer, ignoring Max's reaction. Nick raised an eyebrow before looking down at his desk as he put the pen down. When he caught her eyes again he stared intently, placing his right index finger to her head and pushing gently until she was back upright. Then he picked up his pen again, his focus entirely on his exercise book as he replied.

"No."

Lissa's mouth opened in surprise, making her resemble a goldfish. No one _ever_ said no to her. She glanced sideways to see Max with a huge smile on her face, desperately trying not to burst out laughing. Lissa's brow creased in anger as she leaned back over Nick's desk, waiting for him to look up at her.

He finally did, stilling his pen as his wide, innocent looking eyes caught hers again through his bangs. Lissa looked like a bulldog chewing a wasp by now, a sour expression plastered across her face, her eyes slightly squinted in anger.

"If you had a brain, you'd _know_ the kind of people to make friends with when you saw them." She growled through her teeth, obviously incredibly angry someone had the gall to refuse her affections no matter how often they were offered. Nick looked round at the girls at his table, drawn back to Lissa as she spoke.

"Now, I'm a nice kind of girl, so you'll get a second chance. Will you be my lab partner?" It was funny how she did that. The first part of the statement was said with so much malice it could strip wallpaper, yet the second was said incredibly sweetly, dripping with syrup and lollypops.

Nick sat back and folded his arms, sealing his fate with one word. "No."

Though she was laughing her head off as Lissa stalked away, seething with anger, Max already felt sorry for the new guy. He'd just upset the wrong person, the one you don't mess with if you want to survive at their High School. Lissa had a lot of weight with the general student body, along with most of the burly members of the football team.

He'd probably come out of school with a few bruises today.


	4. A Collision of Cliques

**Next part. I've currently written up to part 6, so there's a few more coming in a row before I run out of updates for this one =P Though, I usually write most of these things on weekends but I'm being eaten by work from like, Thursday onwards. So updates might come to a sudden halt for a few days =/ sorry about that dudes, but I need the hours, even if they do eat my time.**

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**Rehab: Glad you liked it. Writing that part was kinda fun, though one part of this one felt awesome to write too, lol ;)**

**Skystar: No worries, 'Nick' ain't gunna get the raw end of the stick just yet. And yes, crash and buuuuuurn, nyehehehehe.**

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**Part 4  
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"You know, you should have sad yes." Nick looked up at Max's comment, pushing his science specs back up his nose. She was squatted down level with a measuring cylinder, trying to measure exactly 23.5mil of whatever it was they were mixing together. She looked up at him when she finally got it right, waiting for his answer, but he simply shrugged.

"That is, if you're looking for a smooth ride here." she continued as she screwed the cap on the bright blue liquid and pushed it aside. He shrugged again as he noted down the volume of the blue stuff they were about to use.

"It's just, we aren't exactly the most popular people," she looked back down at her book and noted the quantities of everything they were using herself. Nick looked up and studied her again, just for a second. She hadn't done up her lab coat, and it was hanging loosely about her tiny frame, the small slip of her stomach that was visible pressed against the table as she poured a solution into a filter.

"Nor am I." She'd expected his voice to be kind of scary, or dark. Instead, it sounded completely normal. Just like an adolescent boy should sound, slightly deep still with a hint of childishness. She looked at him, her mouth slightly open in mock surprise.

"You _do_ speak!" She teased, giving him a playful punch to the arm. He tensed as her fist touched his skin and swiftly took a step away, not meeting her eyes as he continued to pour one of his substances into another. She kept looking at him for a few seconds, but he didn't look up from his test tubes.

She made a quick mental note _not_ to do that again.

"Sorry," she mumbled, turning back to her own experiment. She was so _stupid_. She already figured out he didn't like the contact from the way he asked with the teacher, why did she do that? Yeah, she did that with the boys at home all the time, but she should have listened to her common sense for once.

"S'ok," His reply interrupted her thoughts, drawing her to look back at him. He caught her gaze as he did so, her eyes locked on his for a few minutes. She suddenly realised she'd been staring and a blush crept onto her cheek as she looked away. Nick let a half smile turn up the corner of his mouth before it vanished, him looking back at his slightly bubbling vial.

She was cute when she blushed.

*~*~*~*

Nick had no idea where to go from here. Sure, he'd been to school before, just as much as any other kid, but he'd never had to move schools before. All of the tables were taken by the different cliques of the student body, all of whom would probably love to tell him where to go if he tried to sit with them. He scanned the tables for someone he recognised but couldn't even see Nudge.

Just great. He could spend lunchtime trying to find a seat.

"Nick! Over here!" His head snapped up and scoured the canteen again, settling on a waving girl at the back of the hall. It was one of Max's friends. Sure enough, Max was sat with her, her head dipped like she was either embarrassed as heck or trying to rub her face in her dinner.

Hoping it _wasn't_ the latter, he started down the alleyway between the tables and keeping his head down against the curious stares from the rest of the tables he passed. It was a few seconds later his tray hit someone in the chest. He back stepped a few paces, looking up through his bangs to apologise, but didn't have a chance.

He didn't have time to study the person before their slipped their hands beneath his tray and forced it upwards, sending all of the stuff balanced on it and the tray flying into the air. It clattered to the floor as food squished left, right and centre, the drink capsizing to tip itself all over Nick's clothes.

He stood there for a few seconds, now taking the time to look the boy over. He was the same height as him, almost to the inch, a huge grin on his face as he folded his arms across his chest. He was wearing a footballer's uniform, probably had a match this afternoon.

_Figures,_ Nick mused as he studied the damage. All of his food was squashed on the floor, none of it was salvageable. Which was annoying, because that was all the money he had for lunch. Pulling out his shirt slightly, he studied the wet mess on his stomach that trailed down his left trouser leg, a little of the liquid pooling in his shoe.

_I've had worse…_

He took a subtle, almost unnoticeable look to his right when he heard sniggering, glaring slightly as Lissa giggled with the few girls sat at the footballer's table. Looks like Max had been right, he wasn't going to have an easy time here.

It was then he looked around the cafeteria, because it finally registered the place was dead quiet, no cutlery moved, no cups were being drunk from. Every person's focus was on the ruckus in the middle of the cafeteria. Of which Nick was the main attraction.

He glanced over at Max's table. She'd turned in her seat to look at them, a glare focused at the middle of the lads back, her hand holding the back of her chair tightly. She looked like she was going to get up and whack him one round the head.

Nick smirked slightly at the thought.

"Welcome to Eastwood High, Freak." The smirk fell as his assailant spoke, a hint of humour in his voice that was reflected in his eyes. Nick looked the lad up and own with an un-easing calmness, boredom on his face. The boy looked sideways at his mates, who shrugged, unsure what to do without an immediate reaction.

It was in that second Nick grabbed the chocolate milkshake sat in front of Lissa and emptied it all over the boy's head. The whole cafeteria gasped.

He held it there, letting all the squishy cold liquid drip out of the beaker onto the boys head, flattening his spiky hair and getting him a shudder as a small amount found its way down the back of his neck and into his shirt. Once almost all of it had dripped out, Nick placed the beaker back on the table beside him and stuffed his now empty hands deep within his trouser pockets.

"Pleasure." Behind the lad, Max's shoulders were jiggling up and down from suppressed laughter. He gal pals seemed to be in shock, their mouths slightly open. Lissa's table had gone dead quiet as he re-met the lad's gaze, his face still set like stone, unreadable.

Two of the lad's friends instantly stood up, flanking Nick from either side, blocking his exits. He kept his face impassive as milkshake squashed its way down the boy's face, sliding down his cheeks as he seethed with anger. His hand curled into a fist as he brought his arm back, ready to try knock a few teeth out, but a third lad caught the boy's arm, stopping him from throwing the punch.

"It's not worth it, Damien. Let it go."

Damien looked from his friend to the emotionally challenged boy in front of him before yanking his arm free of the other lad, looking Nick up and down sharply before stalking out of the hall. The other three gave him hard glares before following their friend towards the bathroom, leaving Nick in the isle with food all around him, hands shoved in his pockets with a bored look on his face.

A few seconds later, the cafeteria was chatting like nothing had happened, minus the remainder of Damien's table, who were still staring at Nick incredulously. Shrugging, he looked down at what was supposed to be he lunch and sighed. Looked like he was going hungry today.

He wasn't one to start fights in his old school, just got involved in them when people insulted him or his family. Meant he'd got into quite a lot of them in his last few weeks, with all the paedophile comments. He wished Damien had hit him, so he could show the boy what a real punch hurt like.

Nick shook his leg before pulling his shoe off, checking the damage. Wasn't too wet, would dry in a matter of hours, before he got home. Holding the shoe, he shot a sideways look at Lissa. She was glaring at him, almost shaking with anger. He'd shown her _and_ her friends up.

He was going to pay for that.

Nick stepped carefully over the mess on the floor, his sock squishing slightly on the tiles as he made his way to Max's table. Slipping into the chair next to Max, he set his shoe down on the floor before looking up. Max was ignoring him, tucking into a couple of pizza slices as she refused to look in his direction. The two girls in front of him looked like they were going to explode.

"Oh. My. God!" Janine squealed as she leant forwards, causing Nick to lean just a little away from the crazy girl. "You just emptied the most popular girl's drink onto the hottest football player's head! What were you thinking?! That's like, social suicide!"

"Maybe he's an idiot." Nick furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look at Max, still only able to see the side of her face as she picked at the pepperoni on her first slice. Both Madison and Janine's jaws hit the table, stammering to butt in, but were beaten to it.

"How so?" Max span her head around to look at Nick, her eyes hard as she stared him down. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight.

"Because you obviously don't give a shit if everyone in this place _hates_ you, that's why." She replied, showing an innocent piece of pepperoni forcefully in her mouth, chewing a few times before continuing. "Most new people would be _jumping_ at Lissa and Damien to like them. Instead, you settle with _us._" She motioned to her table, currently occupied by just the three girl and Nick.

"Hey!" Madison protested. "We aren't like, geeks or anything!"

"No, but we're as unpopular as geeks." Max looked up, an ice cold, cynical glare focused on her friend as she pointed at her threateningly with a piece of pizza. "Remember? We're the set that couldn't get into _any_ other cliques. We're nobodies Maddy."

Maddie looked down and played with the crust on her sandwich, trying to ignore the certain amount of truth in Max's statement. They were just a spec on the school rather than popular. She wanted to be popular a long time ago, when they first started at this school. Then it because apparent it wasn't going to happen, but by then she figured she didn't want to be popular anymore. She had to be like Lissa, something she didn't want to do.

In her mind, their little group was as popular as they could be without acting the part. As slightly sad as that was, she was also kind of happy with the situation.

"I'd rather be a nobody than a bastard." Max's head whipped back round to Nick, who's face was set cold and hard. His jaw was still tight, his eyes intense as they bored into her own, holding her gaze for a few seconds before he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a granola bar. It was something he'd taken to keeping with him in case he didn't feel like going home, so he didn't go completely hungry if he missed dinner. He flopped backwards and slumped slightly in his seat, playing with the wrapper.

He felt Max's hand touch his and stopped, looking up through his bangs to see her holding her last piece of pizza out to him on a plate. He shook his head and went back to opening the bar, but she placed it in front of him anyway. He caught her gaze and smiled a small smirk as a thank you, which was returned as a smile of her own when he put the granola bar away.

She chewed the last piece of her pizza before wiping her hands on her jeans, then she held out a fist in the middle of the table. The other girls instantly put down their lunches and stacked a fist on top, turning to look at him with expectant smiles on their faces, waiting for him to add his own fist.

"Welcome to The Losers, Nick. That is, if you still _want _to be one." He smirked slightly and leaned forwards, staking his fist on the very top. He followed suit as they all tapped the backs of each others hands before digging back into their meals.

Nick slipped back into his chair, picking up the donated pizza and taking a large bite, not able to keep his eyes off of Max. Had that been a secret initiation, or just a spur of the moment thing? Either way, he couldn't stop the smirk from creeping onto his face again and again as the girls laughed and giggled together.

He had friends, his day was better than he could have hoped for.


	5. The Art of Deception 1

**I just wrote part 7. It could be epically detailed and reeeeally in the M kind of area, but i couldnt bring myself to write it anyway. So that might get rehashed into more...uh...explicit and violent, if I can bring myself to write it. If not, it'll stay kind of heavily suggestive as it is now, and kind of violent. If anyone actually reads this, elt me know what you think i should do? **

**Dont have to, but I'd appreciate it. Its the one thing im not comfortable writing yet, and I unno if I ever want to be, I unno.**

**Anyway. I realised, this morning, I updated twice yerterday. lol. im so dippy sometimes.**

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**Starsky: Oops. lol, got them round the wrong way. See how dippy I am =P But yeah, he's a little git. Wait til you read number 7, thats...really not fun. Ruins the fluff in the first half, might make it two chapters rather than the one. But glad to see you like it =3 do keep reviewing, love hearing what you think ^^

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**Part 5**

"Wow. Max. I'd complain, but the guy in my seat is _really_ hot." Max rolled her eyes as Nick furrowed his eyebrows. Mainly because it was a _guy's_ voice behind him, calling him 'hot'. After a few seconds he turned in his chair to look over the slightly girly-tinted voice's owner. He was tall and skinny, clad in tight black and white clothes, his hair styled so the bangs completely obscured his right eye. He had a massive smile on his face as he ran his eyes over Nick.

Who suddenly felt very self conscious.

"Sam! You're making him uncomfortable!" Maddy squealed from the table across the isle, whacking him lightly with her palm. Sam jumped slightly away from her in mock surprise, causing Nick to shuffle his chair closer to Max hen he almost had the boy on his lap.

"Nick, this is Sam, the token gothic gay guy." Max said as a way of explanation, to which he turned his head back to look at her, his eyebrows still pulled together.

"Since when has there been a token gothic gay guy _anywhere?_"

"Since the Losers got their own table in the cafeteria," Max looked deadly serious as she explained it, like it was a well known fact. He raised an eyebrow, but shook his head and looked back at Sam. He was knelt down next to their table, arms folded on it and head resting on them, large blue eyes meeting Nick's as he looked around.

"I don't bite, Tiger. That is, unless you _want_ me to." Nick subconsciously shuffled his chair even closer to Max's as Sam licked his lips an waggled his eyebrows. That was, until Maddy grabbed the boy's collar and pulled him onto his feet and away from Nick's table all together. She whispered something in his ear, and Sam's face fell before he started shuffling through rows of seats to the last available one, next to Janine.

Maddie whispered something to Janine, then they both stifled giggles as they glanced over at Nick. He raised an eyebrow, to which they giggled even more, almost falling out of their seats as they leant backwards, swinging their feet in the air. He took a glance at Max, but she was buried under the table, pulling out books.

"Don't worry," his face flicked back to Maddy, who was leaning across the isle, whispering. "We told him you like Max. He wont bug you again." Both of Nick's eyebrows shot up and the girls burst into fits of giggled again, swallowing them as the algebra teacher strode into the room and shouted for silence. Nick quickly straightened up in his seat and folded his arms on top of his books.

Casually gazing sideways, he took a look at Max as she pulled herself back upright and tucked a few flyaway strands of hair behind her ear, plonking the books on the table. He couldn't help but smile as she flipped her notebook open and stated scrawling the date, her head tilted very slightly to the side as she wrote.

He still had the niggling at the back of his head, telling even having friends was a step too far. They could never go round his house, never get too involved because of his step dad. He was blocking them out as Max caught his eye, smiling widely in reaction to his own smile before looking away again.

Maddy was right, he liked her. But he just couldn't get her involved.

*~*~*~*

"I cant believe how good at algebra you are," Max stated idly as they wandered down the school corridors, weaving through the masses of kids streaming for the exits. She glanced at him as she said it, but he simply shrugged like getting the highest grade in a refresher test wasn't a big deal.

"Maths's easy for me." Nick commented, catching her eye with a slight smile on his face. "I just get it really fast…"

Max felt her stomach flutter as she returned his smile, already feeling not quite herself. She was considered the Tomboy of their group, didn't get into all the girly stuff the others found so appealing. Shoes. Clothes. Boys. Yet here she was, feeling giddy to her tummy as a boy she'd _just_ met smiled at her.

"You're not good at Maths."

"That's damn obvious," she laughed, turning her attention back ahead of her again. She hated maths, a point that was exhibited by her very low score in the test previously mentioned. She got Iggy to help her with the maths for her dad's budgets, simply because he was better at it.

Even if it took _forever_ because she had to read him the numbers.

"I meant to ask. What's with the battle trophies?" She asked as she turned her head to look at him again, catching the cut and scar on his left cheek in her view for a few seconds before he turned to look at her, eyebrows creased. She traced the shape of the scar under her own eye, and realisation passed through his eyes.

"Fights back in my old school," he shrugged as he stopped to hold the heavy school door open for her. She frowned at him but he simply nodded out of the door. Sighing silently, she slipped out into the cool air and walked slowly until he caught up, then slipping into her normal speed as he fell into step. She decided to try a different tack.

"Must be a relief to get away then," she noted him nod in response, not looking back at her, so she continued. "How long have you been up here?"

"Three weeks." There was no way a knife wound from three weeks ago would still look that fresh.

"Cool." Max didn't say anything more on the subject. He'd probably twig in a few days that his lie wasn't quite rock solid, then he might actually share some of the real details with her. Until then she just had to _not_ drive him away.

He was hiding something, and she wanted to know what.

"Which way do you live?" Max asked as they reached the school gates. Now her mind was back on her own deception. No one had ever asked her about her siblings, so no one knew she even had one, let alone three. Nick looked right, then left.

"That way." _Fuck._

"Cool," she breezed, having a mini panic attack inside. "Me too, have to pick up my brother along the way though." Nick shrugged in response, following her as she lead the way. He could wait with her while she picked up her brother.

It was a reason to go home later.

***~*~*~***

"So, your brother's blind?"

Though she looked calm and collected on the outside, Max was silently flipping out. She'd hoped he'd lived somewhere along the twenty minute stretch between their school and Iggy's, but apparently he didn't. He _had_ to live further out of town.

"Yeah, it's a genetic thing. My dad's blind as well." Nick raised an eyebrow. So much for him not telling people things, this girl seemed to have a boatload of stuff hidden below the surface. Max smiled at him, getting a half smile back before spinning round to stare at the still tightly shut school doors and mentally slapping herself.

_Way to go Max! Tell him half your fucking life story in less than five seconds!_

Then the doors opened wide, and streams of kids with sticks of guides started down the steps, towards their awaiting parents and carers. Nick was going to ask about her mum, but he thought better of it as she shouted to a boy who came down the steps without a guide or a stick.

There was probably a reason Mum wasn't here to pick the boy up. Maybe she was blind as well. He felt a certain kind of pity for her as the tall, blonde boy she'd called to ambled out of the school gates like he could actually see the sidewalk in front of him, missing everyone else who walked around him as he made his way to Max.

He now understood why she'd only wait in this exact spot.

"Hey Igs," She took the boy's hand from his side and stroked the back lightly, widening the grin already plastered on his face. She slipped his arm into hers, finally making the guy look blind rather than pretending to be. Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Iggy instantly frowned at the rustling.

"Hey Max, could you introduce me to the person you brought with you? Considering I cant see or anything it would be nice to be _told_ someone was watching me." Nick raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Max. She simply shrugged, a large smile on her face.

God, he was creepy when he did that.

"I felt that shrug," Iggy interjected their body movement discussion. "You know I hate silent conversations."

"Igs, this is Nick. He's th-"

"You finally got your head out of your arse and got a boyfriend?!" Iggy feigned shock and excitement as a huge grin plastered all over his face. "We must alert the press! It'll be on the front page! I can read it to your chil- Ow!" He rubbed his arm where Max had bumped it, his features falling into a sad state.

"I cant believe you hit your _blind_ brother." He stated, hurt in every syllable. Max rolled her eyes and pulled on his arm to get him walking, motioning for Nick to follow as she did so.

"If you _acted_ as blind as you are, I'd be more considerate. Reading it to my children, indeed…" Nick smirked as he jogged to walk next to her other side. "He's the new boy at school. He just lives this way, Igs."

"Riiiiiight, because you've always been really nice about the new kids at your school." He leaned forwards, balancing his weight as he walked on Max's arm as he looked at Nick with unnerving accuracy as he continued. "You know, you're pretty quiet. You're not a goth or something are you?"

Nick glared, an action totally wasted on the blind. A few seconds of silence followed.

"He's glaring at you, Igs." Iggy chuckled before pulling himself back upright, tightening his arm around Max's.

"So is he coming with us to pick up Angel and Gasman, or we ditching him soon?" Max almost fell over he own feet. She took a side glance at Nick and he raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't mention any more siblings."

"Yeah," Max stated quickly before Iggy got a word in edgewise. "I thought you lived all the way up there somewhere. So I didn't even think you'd get to meet Iggy." He shrugged and looked away, and Max gave a small sigh of relief when he didn't ask why she seemed to be picking up a whole family of kids from school.

Maybe that part was normal.

He didn't say anything, but Nick got the picture. She probably wasn't a normal, carefree teenager on the home life side. In that sense they shared that abnormality. They both also seemed to be hiding it from their peers.

He wondered why she'd hide her family, unless there was more than she was letting on.


	6. The Art of Deception 2

**Whew. Work eats my soul. Good thing this update was already written, eh? -w- So, here's part 6. Hope you like. Nice and simple and undrama-ey.**

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**Starsky: Im OCD in checking I get your name the right way round now. lol. But yeah, the M stuff is more the fact I'd post a warning and let it up to the reader's disgression if they wanted to read it or not. Though, this is an M fic, so they should be prepared for it. Also, its more an if I can bring _myself _to write it...eh...I'm not sure if I can, but I'll give it a go.**

**Natvv: Glad you like it, an thanks for reviewing and things =3 Here's an update for you.

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**Part 6  
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"Iggy, Gasman and Angel?" Nick queried as they waited outside the younger kid's school for the bell to ring. Iggy was leant over the small picket like fence that surrounded the front of the school, staring just a few feet left of a tree he'd heart a bird chirp in a second ago. Max was seated on a wall next to the road, Nick leaning against it as he watched Iggy curiously.

He didn't get how someone who was blind could look so…normal. In the sense that he looked at the tree when a bird chirped. He was really good at pinpointing noises. He'd even looked _right at him_ when they'd been walking here.

Had he listened to his footsteps?

"Iggy's name is real," Max brought him out of his thoughts as he turned his head to look at her. She had one led folded on top of the other, picking at the worn out decoration along the side of her sandal. They looked a good few years old, probably well past the replacement date. "Apparently it means an inside secret. That's what my Mum always said, but I read it means a fuck up. Kinda sucks…"

"Just a bit," She'd lowered her voice as she stated Iggy's meaning, and Nick followed suit. He could understand why she didn't want him to hear that part.

"Gary is Gasman. You'll guess why he's called that after five minutes with the boy." Nick raised an eyebrow as she smirked slightly to herself, looking up from her sandal as she did so.

"Do I really want to know?"

"You wont have a choice, Nick. You'll just know." His eyebrow remained raised for a few more seconds before he shrugged it off, glancing back over at Iggy. He was talking to someone animatedly, pointing to the tree. He wasn't shy in the slightest, a trait he expected from a blind person.

"Angelica is just shortened to Angel. That and she _is_ my little Angel." He looked back at Max, who was staring off into the distance as she smiled slightly. "Helps me with the washing and dishes and stuff."

"Doesn't your mum do that for you?" Her smile fell, and Nick instantly regretted asking what he knew would be a sensitive question. Max caught his eyes just for a second, unintentionally letting him see the rawness and pain swimming in there before she looked away.

"Nope." She answered simply, her eyes now focused on her legs as she swayed them slightly in the air. That was as much detail as he was going to get out of her. Nick nodded once, not sure if she'd seen it or not, and looked back over at Iggy. He could understand if Max didn't want to talk about that stuff, it seemed a pretty raw subject with her.

Max was just glad he didn't push it. She'd already told him a hell of a lot more than anyone else at her school knew, the teachers included. She needed to take him aside or something and ask him not to mention her brothers and sisters to the rest of her group, as a favour.

"Is Max your real name?" She refocused on Nick, but he was still watching the school doors, as if staring at them would make them open faster. She wouldn't blame him if he up and left right now after her seeming rudeness.

"Short for Maxine." He turned and caught her gaze again as she spoke, giving her a quick scan with his eyes.

"Max suits you." He smirked that one sided grin she loved seeing, and Max smiled back with him. She _really _liked him. Iggy had hit the button right on the head with his joking earlier, she just didn't have the balls to ask him out. That and she only just met him and she wasn't a slut like Lissa.

Not to mention the whole family situation stopping her going out. That was a downer.

"You got a nickname?" He shook his head slightly, looking away again as she furrowed her eyebrows. "Come on, you must have had one in your old school."

"Its odd though." He replied after a few moments silence.

"My brother is an inside secret and I'm a guy. It cant be too weird." He smirked slightly at the tree he was gazing at, mentally debating if he wanted to have that nickname revived. People _had_ said it suited him, but that was when he was glaring at people or beating the lights out of them for calling him a paedophile. He was pretty sure that was very different from dumping milkshakes on football captain's heads.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fang."

"Seriously?" He glanced sideways discretely, looking at her face. It was still set in a smile, but she wasn't laughing. "That's a pretty cool nickname. Max is dull."

"I like Max," he stated, his head spinning towards the school as the bell rang out. Max smiled at his cheek for a few seconds before following his gaze, watching the small kids pour out of the doors and run towards their families.

_Fang._ She thought as Angel burst out of the gates and threw her arms around Iggy's legs. _Suits him._

*~*~*~*

"You know, you know a heck of a lot more about me than I know about you."

Fang frowned as she said it, the smile from watching Iggy playing with the two little kids about twelve feet ahead of them as they walked home falling from his face. He very much doubted he even knew the tip of the iceberg when it came to Max. Her dad was blind, she wouldn't talk about her mum, and she mentioned having to do the washing and things.

He wished she'd just open up to him, but they had only met today.

The next question was how much of his own life did he want to indulge her with? It made him a hypocrite, something he was very aware of, to say he wanted her to open up but then mentally debating the detail he could leave out of his own background. Thing was he wasn't sure why she lied about her family. He was lying to protect her.

He went to answer her, but was hit with the most eye watering smell as he opened his mouth, making him gag and cover that and his nose with a hand. "Fucking hell, that _reeks_."

"_That_ would be Gasman." He turned to look at Max, her voice muffled by her own hand as she tried to keep out the smell. "See what I mean..?"

"Yes." Max smiled slightly behind her hand as he glanced back up at the boy ahead of him. Gary was walking backwards, mouthing 'sorry' over and over with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. They picked up their pace and were soon out of the gas cloud, able to breathe freely.

"So, about you…" Fang's frown still hadn't lifted, and at that point it became a glare more than anything. Max didn't say a word as he answered.

"No much to say," he shrugged, locking his jaw as he continued. "Mum remarried and shipped me upstate. Step dad, step sister. Nothing else to tell, really."

Max furrowed her brows slightly. She _really_ wasn't stupid. For one she was pretty sure he'd been putting two and two together about he family circumstances by now, and it had her stomach doing backflips as she tried to concentrate on other things. So she'd asked about 'Fang's' family.

Seemed to her his family were related to the cuts he'd acquired on his face, because he'd locked his jaw and dropped his smile the second they were brought up. Usually, when you spoke about a family you didn't really like you might drop the smile, or bitch a little.

But she could be disgust in his eyes. Hatred. She almost shuddered.

"So she left her husband?" She inquired further, instantly regretting asking it as he jaw clenched even tighter. "Nevermind. How far out do you live?"

Fang furrowed his brow but didn't look sideways at her. She'd just changed the subject before he could say a word. That wasn't normal. Yeah he had little kinks in his impassive armour, but usually very few people picked up on them, let alone understood what they meant.

She'd noticed him locking his jaw?

"Quite a way out," he replied as he looked round at her and consciously relaxed his jaw, trying to appear normal. "Maybe another twenty minutes walk from here."

"Long way to walk on your own," he shrugged slightly and turned his attention back ahead, watching the kids leading Iggy into a sideway. The house looked kind of on the small side for a family that big, no way could it have more than three bedrooms. Max stopped at the end of the driveway with him.

"I…could walk you home." She said almost in a whisper, like she was embarrassed. "Dad would be ok with the kids for a little while, just sit them in front of the TV." Fang tried to keep his jaw from clenching up as he ran the idea through his head. She could come close to his house without meeting his step father. He'd probably still be out getting hammered by now anyway, be a good few hours before he stumbled back through the door.

He noted she'd not mentioned her mother again, but locked the thought away.

He nodded once, letting a small grin spread across his face as she smiled widely back. "I'll be a few seconds ok?" She stated before dashing off up the drive, pulling a set of keys from her pocket and shoving them in the door.

Fang leant against the wall as the kids filed into the house after her, chattering loudly and leaving the front door wide open. A small smile touched his lips as the events of the day ran through his mind. Even with the down points, his first day had gone much better than he expected it to. He had friends to sit with, someone he could walk home with.

Shame about the infatuation creeping into his veins. He couldn't play that game, not with a step father like his hiding behind closed doors. Fang doubted the guy would make the effort to stay sober if he invited her round, or even if he would _agree_ to her coming round at all.

Fucking step father.

*~*~*~*

"Hey, Dad. Can I ask a favour?" Max slipped around Angel as she and Gasman ran out of the living room before leaning against her Dad's chair, picking up and lightly stroking the back of his hand. The middle aged man smiled up at her, his sightless eyes as freakily accurate as Iggy's as they settled on her face.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"You be alright with the kids for like, an hour?" She was looking at his hand as she continued to stroke it, her thumb running softly over the back. They were beginning to look more aged and frail, like the grey hairs on his head slowly making an appearance.

Not that he'd notice.

"Of course Poppet. What's the occasion?" Max smiled slightly to herself, stroking his hand as absently as she was staring at it as unfocused. Images of Fang rolled behind her eyes, widening her smile as she remembered the milkshake incident. A gentle squeeze from her dad pulled her back to reality. He had a massive grin on his face, making him look remarkably like Iggy.

"What?" she queried, her thumb stopping to hold his hand instead.

"It's a boy isn't it?" Max wasn't quite sure how to answer that one. Yes, he was a boy. No, they weren't an item. Yes, they weren't going for a walk together. _No,_ she hadn't fallen for him.

"He's called Nick, the _new_ boy in school." Max flopped her face into her free hand and slowly rubbed her head, refusing to turn round when she knew any look she gave her blind brother would be pointless. "They were _smiling_ and _talking_ and _everything_."

"How the fu-" A pinch from her father instantly corrected Max's fowl language as she span her head round to look at Iggy, the glare plastered on her face unintentional. "-hell do you know we were smiling?"

"See, _told_ you they were smiling." Oh, she was going to slap that smug grin right off his face in a minute.

"Max," she swung her head round to look at her father, who was smiling gently as he stroked her hand. "Go on, Iggy and I can handle the little'uns for a the evening, if you want. Just be back before midnight."

"I wont stay out _that_ long, Dad." She didn't feel comfortable letting the kids have free run while the blind duo tried to keep them under control. Last time they'd done that, the house looked like a bomb hit it and Iggy fractured his wrist.

Though they'd been _really_ young at the time.

"You have permission to, ok?" Max smiled softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as he continued. "Don't make me have to tell that boy to keep you out late."

"Alright, Dad. Just don't let them have the chocolate pudding. Its for the weekend." She leaned forwards and kissed his head, giving his hand another squeeze before finally pulling hers away. He smiled up at her as he folded his arm back into his lap, unseeing eyes watching the doorway as he listened to his eldest daughter head out the front door.

She deserved some time to herself, it was just convincing her to have some that was the problem.


	7. How Time Flies

**Another update. Because my buffer is still going strong -w- by about two chapters, lol. Enjoy =3**

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**OMRD: What classes as classic? x3 I'm not entirely sure on the whole AU scene what's a 'normal' story line. I'm glad mine is different XD thank you so much for the praise and the review.**

**Rehab: I usually update every day, because i have a buffer, but my ditziness means I slip occasionally. I'm sorry if I did .-. thank you for the sound effect! Every story needs one! =D Thanyees for the review.  
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**Eyeliner: Glad you like it ^^ Thanks for the review. =3

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**Part 7**

Max closed her eyes and let the wind whip through her hair, letting it wash away all the daily worries and problems as it whistled past her ears. The sensation stopped for barely a second before the swing flew back down again, pulling her hair back in front of her face, tangling it. But Max didn't care.

It felt like she was flying.

Fang was sat astride the swing next to hers, a leg over each side as he watched her swing backwards and forwards again and again. He couldn't help but smile at the happiness covering her features. She looked joyful, carefree, like she should do, like _he_ should do.

His mind wandered as he watched her smiling, swing her legs in the air like a small child. She was hiding something about her life, that he was sure of. Her mother seemed to be a very raw subject as well, though if that was the root of the problem or not wasn't exactly clear to him. If her dad was blind, and this so called mum wasn't ever there, who looked after the kids?

Maybe Max did?

He shook the idea away as soon as it came to him. She never said that her mum wasn't there or didn't care, it was an assumption he'd made himself. No basis at all. Therefore he could discard them. Besides, he planned to get the truth out of her eventually. He wasn't sure how far he would be willing to go to extract it, however.

He wasn't sure is he'd push as far as secrets for secrets either, but it was still in mental debate.

"Hey, Fang?" He looked back up at her from the concrete he'd ended up staring at, catching her gaze as she slowed herself to a stop. Her smile was gone, the carefree expression replaced by that of worry and concern.

"Don't say anything about my brothers and sister at school, ok?"

He wanted to ask why she hadn't mentioned them at school, what was so bad about her family situation that she wanted to pretend she was an only child, but he simply nodded before leaning his head back into the chain behind him, closing his eyes as he swayed left and right very slightly.

It was odd to him, how she slipped into calling him by his nickname like a real name. Like Fang was the only name he'd ever told her was attached to him. Though she called all her siblings by their nicknames, it probably came naturally to her by now. He heard her swing jiggle as she planted a leg either side of the seat, leaning back against the chain as she mimicked his rocking motion.

"I have to head back soon," Fang furrowed his eyebrows before opened his eyes, catching her gaze.

"It cant be that late, we've only been here a few hou- …oh" He clicked the button on the side of his watch as he spoke, illuminating the face a bright green. It really did feel like they hadn't been there that long, but his watch told him a different story.

11.30pm

"Wow…" he whispered as he pulled himself into an upright seated position, stretching his arms. They'd been in the park since before it got dark, though it was only about a ten minute walk from both their houses. "Lets get you home, don't want your Dad to spaz on me the first time I take you out."

Max laughed. "Take me out! We're at the fucking park, Fang. Its not like a romantic dinner by the sea or something." She stood and swung a leg over, planning her behind back down on the seat as she stared out over the pitch black park. She'd never been out this late before, except once when she'd had to run to the all night store for some medicine for Gasman.

Fourteen year old running about on her own at 1.30am. Wasn't the best of memories.

She heard Fang swing his leg over the seat and grab a hold of the chains, but she didn't look round. He was silent, and Max was hoping to God she hadn't upset him with that remark. She looked down at her sandals, her feet a little chilly in the night air.

"Would you _want_ me to take you somewhere nice?" Max wasn't quite sure how to answer that. In fact, she almost fell off her swing when he said it. She looked at him through the darkness, trying to pull any kind of emotion from his hazy features, but couldn't find one.

Was he joking with her? Or did he really mean it?

Her head was swimming slightly at the idea of 'going somewhere nice' with Fang. She'd have to make some extra arrangements with the agency, get the whole evening covered until the kids were in bed. She was already dreading what she was about to go home to, with the kids under the rule of the blind adolescent and the lenient, equally blind father.

"Max," she blinked a few times, trying to refocus on him before realising it was pointless in the dark. "I mean, not like a date. We could go somewhere as friends at the weekend, you know. Dinner and a movie or something."

_I'll have to check my backup savings…_ "Sounds good, but I might not have the money…"

Fang snorted as he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the jacket he'd brought with him off the floor before offering her a hand to pull her from her swing. His father had way too much money to play with for an alcoholic. He could relieve him of some of it easily. Max took his hand after a few seconds hesitation, wishing she'd brought her own jacket as her bare stomach tingled in the cool night air.

"I'll pay," he added finally, draping his jacket around her shoulders before catching her eyes in the darkness. "Just say yes."

She stared back at him looking dumb for a few moments, it suddenly hitting her how much taller he was than her, and how bloody close he was standing, his hands still on the edges of the jacket now wrapped around her. His eyes looked more intense in the darkness, his close proximity finally allowing her to see his features, set solid and unreadable.

She _wanted_ to say yes, she really did. Was she a slut if she accepted if he asked her and she wasn't throwing herself at him? Possibly in some people's eyes, but it seemed kind of…normal to her. There were the kids to consider, a carer for her dad who could handle the kids as well. The money he'd be spending on her that she'd need to find a way to make back to him…

She swallowed hard. "Yes?"

A small, lopsided grin found itself onto Fang's face as he adjusted the jacket slightly on her shoulders. She smiled back up at him as he dropped his arms back to his sides, just holding his gaze for a few more seconds before he clicked the button on the edge of his watch again.

11.45. Where the hell was all the time going?!

"You want me to walk you home?" He looked up from his watch to her eyes again, motioning to the park exit closest to her house. She smiled gently again, but shook her head as she shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.

"I'll be fine. You want the jacket back?" She moved to take if off her shoulders, but he shook his head as he stuffed his hands into his own pockets.

"Give it back to me tomorrow or something, I'm not cold." They smiled goofily at each other for a few more seconds as Max slipped her arms into the jacket, rolling the sleeves up a little to be able to do up the zip. Fang was incredibly aware of how close he was standing to her, but one other fact bounced around his mind.

It didn't bother him. In the slightest.

"See you tomorrow?" Max asked as she rolled the sleeves back down over her hands, shoving them in the jacket pockets to keep them even warmer. Fang nodded once, holding her gaze for a few more seconds before finally took a step away.

"Bye."

"Bye." Max watched him fade into the darkness as he strode towards his exit, until even his outline was indistinguishable from the rest of the scenery. Only then did she start walking backwards to her own gate, turning half way there to quicken her pace now she was alone.

She couldn't help smiling to herself the whole way home, toasty and warm in the jacket Fang had leant to her. He'd basically just asked her out on a non official date. Something she _really_ hoped he would do, and he did it. Now she just had to hope they had the funds to pay for the agency carer to come out for a weekend evening.

She didn't want to have to turn him down.

*~*~*~*

Ignoring the fact his arms were feeling a little chilly, Fang walked quickly down the well lit road of his house as he let the days events run over and over in his mind. So much had happened in one day, it felt kind of surreal. Like he would wake up tomorrow morning and it would all have been a dream.

His hand closed around the key in his pocket as he neared his stepfather's house. There was no doubt he'd be drunk out of his mind and home by now. As he jogged up his driveway, Fang hoped he was passed out on the sofa or something, it would be so nice not to spoil the day with a pointless argument.

He pressed the key into the lock and turned it, swiftly pushing open the door as the lock clicked open. The living room light was still on, shining out into the hallway as he silently took his shoes off and placed them by the door.

"Nickolas." Apparently not silently enough. He'd asked him mum if he could stay out late when he dropped his bag off earlier. She'd told him to be back whenever. That's probably why the threatening tone being used to call him name was Mike's voice. Taking a deep breath, Fang straightened up as he walked determinedly to the living room door and slipped between the door and its frame.

"You're supposed to ask 'fore you go out, Nick." Fang's eyes fell on the man slouched in the chair in the corner who'd paused to take a long swig from his beer bottle. He swallowed and licked his lips, pointing the almost empty bottle at Fang as he continued. "You didn' ask if you could go out. Breakin' my rules."

"I asked Mum," he stated cooly, locking his jaw to keep a look of disgust off his face as he buried his hands deep in his pockets. "You weren't ho-"

"It's _my_ house." Anger crossed Mike's face as he pulled himself to his feet, advancing unsteadily on him as the continued to point the bottle at Fang. He stiffed, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "You and your _mother_ have _no_ say on wha' I say goes an doesn't go in this house. Understand?"

"And if you're not home?" A seemingly rational question to ask hit Mike exactly the way Fang was trying to avoid. The man's features creased further as his spare hand collided with Fang's cheek, causing the adolescent to reel slightly and press a hand to his stinging face.

"Ooh don't question _my_ authority in _my_ house. Ooh wanna do something', ask me. Not that _bitch_." Fang swallowed all of the malice and hatred that tried to force itself to the surface, taking a deep breath and letting it melt into the back of his consciousness. He dropped his arm back to his side as he looked back at his stepfather, his eyes the only reflection of the feeling beneath the surface as his jaw stiffened.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Go bed ungrateful shit. Getoutta my face." He held the man's eyes for a few more seconds, knowing all too well the guy was too drunk out of his senses to pick up on the feelings echoing in his own, before marching silently out of the room and taking the steps two at a time.

He resisted the urge to slam his door and instead pushed it shut, flopping onto his bed and curling up facing his window, still fully clothed. He'd actually let the bastard think he had the upper hand, but only because he probably wouldn't even remember their encounter tomorrow morning. Gazing out of the window, he very much doubted he'd be able to get to sleep tonight.

He heard his step dad stumble into his room, next to his, and a hushed conversation ensue between him and his previously sleeping wife about telling her child he could come home late. Fang buried his head in a pillow and pulled the other side over his exposed ear, not wishing to hear any of their conversation.

He closed his eyes and focused on the good parts of his day. Max and her friends at school, the satisfaction of pouring a milkshake over someone's head, walking home with Max and meeting her siblings, spending hours with her in the park.

Max. He just couldn't get her off his mind.


	8. Breaking Through

**Next part. lol. My shift killed my feet, I can feel them throbbing x3 But yeah, still a couple in the buffer, so these'll last until I've got a few days off work to bulk it up again. For those who read the AN and expected violence in the last chapter, it's been relocated to chapter 10 =P  
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**I's sad. No reviews to comment on =( Think we could try get like, 4 or 5, before i update next? I hate the ultimatum thing, but its nice to come home to reviews. Please review if you like it? It's good to hear comments on the chapter's contents and stuff.**

**WARNINGS: Emotional overspill and general fluffehness. lol.

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**Part 8: Breaking Through**

It was 5.40am when Fang stepped into the shower cubical and turned on the hot tap. An unconscious happy sigh flitted from his throat as the water beat over his chest, washing away all the events of the previous day in preparation for another one.

It was Thursday. He'd been at the school just long enough to not be called 'The New Kid' but not quite long enough for people to not give him a second glance if they spotted him in the corridor, though Sam frequently told assured it was because he was 'smokin' hawt'.

Needless to say, he was still ignoring Sam.

He was also still waiting for Lissa and her football goons to take some kind of revenge on him for the milkshake incident. Most they did was glare at him across the corridor or shove past him in the hall, meaningless acts of stupidity when your stepfather took swipes at you with knives.

That and if Max was with him, she usually shoved then harder and glared back. Something he'd grown to love her for.

He smiled slightly into the spray as he ran his fingers through his hair, images of Max floating behind his eyelids. She was so different to half the girls he'd met at this school and the one before, not trying to please people, just being herself. If only she'd indulge him of the parts of her life his active imagination was trying to fill in.

He'd come to the conclusion over the last few days her mother either was a vegetable in the sense of helping, or just wasn't there anymore. She never talked about her as in the present tense, more a 'she used to', or 'she thought', which made him lean more towards her not being there anymore.

That left his mind running away again. She'd never mentioned another woman of the house, that left his with just one conclusion to pull: She was running the family. She'd already mentioned Angel helping her with dished and washing, maybe she really did care for her brothers and sister.

He frowned slightly as he washed, wondering where the hell they got the money to live off of when the only parent in the house was blind. Max hadn't mentioned having a job, since she'd accepted his proposal for the weekend without a hitch.

He tilted his head down as a thought struck him. The only other source of income could be benefits, of which he was sure there were some for the blind as well as their carers. Then again, she never actually mentioned her family situation to anyone outside of school, she hadn't actually admitted it to him yet.

Maybe they were getting benefits for the two blind members, but what about her?

He turned the water off and shook his head, sending water flying everywhere as his hair stuck to random places on his face. He had a few spare minutes to get breakfast, something he could forgo to look up whether she was eligible for a carer's claim.

He pulled a towel from the rack and stepped onto the bathmat, rubbing his hair rigorously before wrapping the towel around his middle. He took a quick glance at himself in the mirror. The larger gash had healed fully, a small white mark across his face where the new skin had replaced the slashed. The car key, however, had left a nasty scar just under his left eye.

Fang tilted round to look at his right hand side, lightly stroking a hand over the healing bruise on the back of his shoulder. That was Mike and an alcohol fuelled round of anger when he lost money on the horses. Fang had been unfortunate enough to be still downstairs when he stumbled home, and quickly heading to bed was seen as trying to start a confrontation.

It only did because Mike _followed _him, and thus came the bruise.

It didn't really hurt, and was nice and easy to hide compared with cuts and scars on your face. He unlocked the bathroom door and padded back to his room, pushing the door up before scrabbling about in his drawers for some fresh clothes to wear. Throwing on a set of black jeans and a black, plain shirt, Fang flopped onto his bed and pulled his laptop off of his bedside table, quickly opening Google and typing in 'young carer benefits' before checking his watch.

5.53am. Seventeen minutes was plenty of time.

*~*~*~*

"Its not _our_ fault you were out with that guy til dark yet again, Max. We had to feed them something."

"Igs," Max was still dressed in pyjamas and her dressing gown as she cleared the breakfast table, the coffee machine still blinking, its contents forgotten in the rush. "I was out until eight, not too late for me to make dinner, and you let them eat five packets of chocolate pudding."

She'd either slept through her alarm, or forgotten to set it. Of the detail, she wasn't sure. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep running yet another evening down the park with Fang through her head. They'd had a swinging competition, he'd helped her with their maths homework. Time had gone so fast, they stayed out until they had to stop because they couldn't see their hands in front of their faces.

He'd walked her home. She still had his jacket in her room, hung over the chair next to her bed where she'd laid it carefully the night before when he'd let her keep it again. She'd fallen asleep thinking of him. _God, _she was getting girly. Damn boys.

"What else were we supposed to d-"

"Tell them to make sandwiches, undo a can of spam, corned beef. Even the _carpet_ has more nutritional value than chocolate pudding." Her brain flipped back into anger mode as she dropped the plates in the sink with a loud crash. She span on spot to glare at Iggy, but of course he had no idea she was. He'd flinched from the crash of the china though. Max secretly hoped she hadn't broken anything.

"We have spam?"

"God, Igs. You only had to get Gaz to read what was on the tins in the cupboard!" She stormed past him, brushing her fingers against his chest as she stalked past him to let him know she was going. He recoiled slightly before following her heavy footsteps to the hall, hearing her pound on the stairs.

"Sorry! Angel did the Bambi eyes!" Iggy shouted after her. Max heard him, but refused to acknowledge that as a viable excuse since he was fucking _blind_. She sped into her room, discarding the robe on the floor as she rummaged through her drawers. She kicked off her slippers as she threw a few pieces of clothing onto the bed, getting ready to attack her hair with the brush on her nightstand.

Then the doorbell went. _Shit. I don't have time for this._

"Ang! Get the door!" She yelled out as she pulled knots out of her hair, a hair band between her teeth to pull it back. Quickly gathering it all up in a messy ponytail, she dropped the brush with a small clatter into the desk and turned to grab her clothes.

"Max! Its that Nick guy!"

_What's he doing here?_ Outside world clothes forgotten, Max looked sideways at her closed door for a few seconds before jumping up and yanking it open, padding down the stairs in her PJ's and bare feet to check Angel wasn't pulling her leg.

Yup. That was Fang.

"Yo," he raised a hand in greeting as Angel skipped away from the door, pulling her hair back in a ribbon as she slid back into the living room. Max blinked a few times, taking the last few stairs slowly as she tilted her head to the side slightly.

"What're you doing here?" she queried as she reached the last step, almost stumbling over herself when she didn't realise the floor was now flat. She mentally kicked herself as she quickly strode across to the door, wrapping her arms around her middle as she leant her shoulder against the door frame.

"That last step's a fucker." He said with a completely straight face, having to actually _try_ to keep a huge smirk off it as Max lightly whacked his arm, pressing her back to the doorframe as she stared at the top corner, avoiding his gaze.

It was a few seconds later she looked back at him. "You didn't flinch." He shrugged. Typical.

"You know, that's not really appropriate for school. But I like it." Max raised an eyebrow at him before she realised he was addressing her night clothes. She looked down at the camisole and shorts combo she'd thrown on to snuggle into bed in last night and blushed slightly, hooking an arm around her shoulder to cover her more-than-comfortably revealed chest.

I'm…I'm gunna go get dressed…" Fang smirked as a slight blush touched her cheeks, but didn't comment. He nodded once, his gaze falling on Angel as she lead Iggy out the living room towards the door at arms length, chattering about Barbies and a girl in her class.

"I'll watch the brood."

Max let a slight smile touch her lips before she turned and bounded up the stairs, deciding never to answer the door in just her pyjamas again as she pulled on the clothes she'd thrown onto her bed a few minutes before. It was as she zipped up her jeans she realised he'd completely avoided her questions.

He _hadn't _jumped. And why was he even here this early?

*~*~*~*

"So, you got up _extra_ early to walk into school with me?" She asked incredulously, adjusting the bag on her back as they ambled up the street to their own school. The kids had all been dropped off and kissed goodbye to another day of learning, now it was just her and Fang going to their school.

"Yup," she glanced sideways at him, seeing his face set as straight as it could be, even if his jaw wasn't all clenched up like it was when he got angry. She set her attention back forwards again, letting her mind wander a little with nothing definite to focus on. It found its way back to Fang again and again, trying to figure out what was hiding.

It kept coming up with the same thing, and it wasn't a pretty home picture.

Fang was having the same problem, but his mind kept flicking between the obvious lack of adult influence in her household and the papers in his pocket. It wasn't much, just a number to ring, a few benefits she could try and apply for, a hotline for a few more free services to give her some time to herself without having to worry about her Dad and Iggy the whole time.

Now he just needed to hear it from _her._ If he just outright gave her the papers, he'd look like a right twat. Phase one was to get her to admit it, hopefully letting someone else in on it would be a relief. The phone numbers and everything could wait a few days, to make sure she didn't think he'd been on to her for so long.

He took a chance. "So, now I answered a question, can I ask one?"

Max raised an eyebrow as she glanced back at him, meeting his eyes as they studied her closely. His face was still stony, unreadable, yet his eyes seemed to be swimming with curiosity and interest. She furrowed her brows slightly before looking away, stopping at the curb for the crossing man to go green.

"I guess?"

"What happened to your Mum?" If she'd been walking, Max would have fallen over. Instead her stomach went from doing back flips to a total nosedive, right into her shoes. Something she quickly tried to cover as she focused on the crossing lights ahead.

"That's not a fair trade."

"So something happened to her. What?" Fang was watching her closely, hands deep in his pockets and face set as cool as a cucumber as Max closed her eyes and took a long, shaky breath. Minutes passed as traffic flew across the road on both sides, but she didn't say a word. Fang frowned slightly, reaching out awkwardly to touch her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

"Max, I didn't mean t-"

"Didn't mean to _what_, Fang?" She shot her head round to look at him, hurt and anger echoing on her face as she tightened her grip on her backpack straps. "Stir up memories? Cause offence? Maybe I don't talk about her because it _causes_ all of those things, Fang. Talking about your mother's death makes people feel sorry for you, and _instantly_ regret bringing it up in the first place."

Fang was silent as he watched a tear trickle down Max's cheek and slide down her chin. The hand she'd shrugged away that had been lifeless at his side raised to wipe it away, but she jerked back, taking a few steps with it.

"I don't need understanding." Her voice was slightly shaky, with anger or with sadness he couldn't tell. "I don't want pity, and I _don't_ need help." The crossing was beeping as it held up the morning traffic, but neither teen made a move to cross. Their eyes were locked as Fang softened his expression, taking a few steps towards her again to close the newly opened gap.

This time she didn't jerk away as he wiped a fresh tear from her cheek, letting his eyes hold her gaze as she shook a little in a combination of anger and reawakened memories. Her lips trembled as she tried to gather her senses and hold back the tears, the muscles in her face twitching for the same reason.

"I wont pity you." He said as he pulled his still borrowed jacket tighter around her by the collar. "I wont try to understand. But I will listen." She opened her mouth to interject, but he pressed his finger to her lips as he continued. "Just listen, so you don't have to keep _everything_ locked up in that head of yours."

Their eyes hadn't broken contact since he'd closed the distance between then, and it was Max who broke it as she looked down at the floor, considering her options. She was still shaking slightly, but this time all of the anger had long since dissipated. The cars were driving past again as she looked back up, nodding just once as she agreed to share the secret she held so tightly to her chest.

Fang held out a hand to her, motioning back down the road they'd come with his head. "School isn't a good place to talk."

Max didn't convincing as she slipped her hand into his, passively letting him lead the way back passed the other schools and her house to their park. This was he first time she'd _intentionally_ missed school when she was able to go in.

But she felt like she had a good reason to miss it.


	9. Secrets and Sacrifices

**Three is better than none, so update I shall -w- One more left in the buffer. Next part is in the works, and feels kinda forced tonight, so imma try again after a good nights sleep. Yay finally getting a few days off work.**

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**Person95: Thanks. I try to keep them in character, or its more a original story using Max Ride as crutch. Think mine is kinda like that, but I did try -w- Not so sure about realism x3 but i did try to make it as reas as possible. And wow, really, it sounds like it could be published? =o since I write fanfictions because i was rubbish in school thats quite a compliment lol. Thank you! ^^ Mnay thanks for the review, here's an update for you.**

**Silent Broken Heart: Huh. I usually try visit the pages of people who comment on my stuff and read their stuff, but firefox doesnt like your page .-. I'll try again tomorrow. Silly thing. Many thanks for the review ^^ Glad you enjoyed it =3**

**Eyeliner Vampire: I tried, lol. Update =3 ~shot for duhness~**

**Starsky: Hehe, slipped in there just as I was proofreading this chapter =P Thank you for the review, its appreciated ^^ And school. Blargh. I unno if i prefered the learning i had last year or the job I had now. lol. I love Fax. I feel sorry for my boyfriend because im a hopeless romantic ;) And...reaaaaally soon update =P hope school goes ok when you go back.  
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**Part 9  
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Sat with his legs slightly splayed and his arm rested on his knees, Fang surveyed the park around him. Birds were singing in the trees as the sun beat down on him and Max, making him wish they'd chosen a spot under a tree to sit.

He dared a glance her, just a few feet left of him, picking at the grass as she stared at it emotionlessly. Her slightly bloodshot eyes were the only indication she'd been any different just forty minutes ago. He'd sat her down over here because it was comfier than sitting on swings, told her to take all the time she needed.

Admittedly he now wished he'd put some sun cream on, but that wasn't really that important when put into perspective. Absently, he glanced down at his shoes and silently moved to re-tie the laces, the bows he'd done in a hurry this morning already falling apart.

"I wasn't even one when Iggy was born." His looked up as casually as he could when Max finally began to speak, her face still angled down as she tortured a few blades of grass. "Dad said that was when Mum started her losing battle against depression, but I wasn't old enough to recognise any changes in behaviour when she started slipping down that road.

"He used to tell me stories about Mum the days she wasn't curled up in bed doing nothing, the days when she actually managed to get herself fed and to work. Of when they were dating, and she used to describe the colour of the sky to him, all the shades of colour in the ocean. He said he had no idea what the colours looked like at all, but he loved hearing the enthusiasm in her voice."

A small smile played on her lips as she thought about it, still absently picking at the grass for those few seconds before it dropped again.

"He used to say how much he missed that. The enthusiasm." Fang pulled himself upright and threw his legs to the side, watching her intently now as she continued to torture grass her face angled down. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before continuing.

"I never knew her as that happy person Dad described. To me, she seemed to spiral between a slightly enthusiastic woman who seemed more alive in Dad's stories to the shell of a woman Iggy and I would have to pester for hours before she'd make us something to keep us going. We didn't get the whole depressed thing, just knew we were hungry. To us, she was just that way.

"It was Mum.

"Eight years after Igs was born, Gasman was brought into the world. The small snippets of the happy Mum from the stories faded away completely the day they started finding allergies and other things wrong with him. She refused to give him a name for a year, just referring to him as 'the accident'. Eventually Dad let me chose his name, so he got called Gary.

"Dad and I cared for Gary as we started seeing less and less of Mum. She'd lock herself in the bathroom for hours on end, or just curl up in bed and stare at the wall across the room, not responding to us when we shook her. It was about then I learned to cook, letting Iggy help me sometimes, because he wanted to.

"About a year after that she found out she was carrying Angel. She totally lost it at that point. She refused to eat the food Iggy and I took up to her, refused to even look at us half the time. Eventually Dad got her taken into the psychiatric ward at the hospital. She saw a counsellor every day for six for seven months or something until they decided to do a caesarean, get Angel out of her before both lives were lost.

"The medical costs in themselves bled their joint savings dry." Max looked up and finally caught Fang's eyes, letting him see the emotions playing on her face. "We had nothing when they finally released Mum a month later, and Angel was still in hospital, some kind of machine breathing for her.

"We downsized to this house, used the extra money to pay for Angel's care as Mum sank deeper and deeper into a depression. This time I could see the definite difference between my Mum when I was younger and the Mum she was being now. Completely neglecting her kids. One time, I waited for her to pick me up from school for four hours. When she finally turned up she just dragged me home by the wrist without saying a word, flopping into bed as soon as she closed the door.

"Iggy kept asking where I was. She wasn't going to pick me up." Fang's hand found hers and squeezed it gently, his eyes still set on her face as she looked down at his hand, turning hers over to grip his and lightly stroke the back. The same thing he'd seen her do to Iggy when they picked him up from school.

"Couple of months after that, she told us she was going to visit Angel, as she still hadn't come home. Two hours later she jumped off the hospital roof, died on impact." She brought her eyes back up to his again, searching them for any kind of emotion, but they were still surprisingly blank except for a small amount of shock and sadness that wouldn't show in his set jaw floating in them.

A few silent tears slid down her cheek as she looked away again, grasping his hand slightly as she glared at the grass below her. She took another deep, shaky breath before whispering just one last thing:

"I had to identify her body."

It was then the tears refused to be held back any longer. Her body shuddered as she cried softly, still not looking at Fang, embarrassed by the weakness she couldn't express in front of the family that needed her to stay strong for them. She expected him to try and reassure her, to try and relate to her, but he was silent.

She felt him take his hand from hers and she withdrew it into her lap, still refusing to let him see her cry as she turned completely away. She heard him move, thinking he was getting up to leave or something, until she felt his shoulder lightly graze hers as he settled beside her. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and gently pulled her closer to him, the other snaking up to stroke the back of her head.

Max didn't want to be consoled or babied because of her circumstances, but she couldn't help sinking into Fang's shoulder as she shuddered her way through an incredibly embarrassing round of tears. He kept dead quiet as he gently stroked the back of her head, holding her to him as years of pent up emotion finally go out.

Fang couldn't help but feel a little pity for her, having to keep three kids and a father going since she was twelve was hardly an easy path for anyone. He lent his cheek slightly against her head as she shuddered and sobbed, staring at a tree across the park as his brain ticked over.

Her mother was dead. _That's_ what she was hiding, as well as the having to care for a whole family thing. Made his little predicament with his stepfather seem so much smaller, considering it had only been an issue for a month now.

Max had put up with her circumstances for _years._ He couldn't hep but admire her.

As she shook in his arms it didn't change the kind of person she was. She'd put five years of her life into keeping her family together. It finally clicked in his head why she hadn't told anyone about their situation. At twelve the family would have been torn apart, sent into care homes, probably the dad included. She just wanted her family together and happy, no matter what it took.

Even if it meant her well being, her life, that was sacrificed.

Her sobs became the occasional hiccup a few seconds before Max pulled her head from his shoulder, rubbing her bloodshot eyes vigorously on her jumper sleeve as she sat back. He relaxed his arm instantly, studying her face again as she sniffed and wiped the tears away.

"I'm soaking your shirt," she mumbled, looking out over the sunbathed park, desperately avoiding his gaze Fang dropped his hand from her hair to around her middle.

"And my jacket." She paused mid-wipe as she removed tears from her cheek, taking a quick glance at the jacket she'd been loaned before looking back up at him sheepishly. A small smirk touched his face as he shrugged it off. "No worries. Probably needs a wash by now anyway."

She looked down at the floor and played with the hem of the jacket, not sure what to really say in a moment like this. She'd just sobbed her heart out to an almost complete stranger in the middle of a park when she was supposed to be in school. Not something she would have seen coming.

If you'd told her that when she'd woken up, she would have laughed her head off.

"Won't say a word." She looked back up at Fang as he spoke, seemingly reading her next thought as he tighten his arms very slightly around her middle. "To anyone. I promise."

"Thank you." It was so quiet the words barely left her lips, but Fang smiled gently in return and lightly brushed a piece of hair from her eyes.

"Come on," he shifted to pull himself away from her, taking his arms from around her waist. Max instantly felt alone as he pulled himself to his feet and motioned to the park exit nearest her house. "Get you a quick freshen up at home before we go into school?"

"Dad might flip," she pulled herself to her feet before burying her hands deep within her jacket pockets, her gaze on his as she walked over to where he stood.

Fang simply shrugged in response as he let her go first, walking next to her as they exited the park. "I'll take the blame, no problem. Was me who dragged you aside after all."

Max walked in silence, unable to really think what to say in return. He was being understanding without being overbearingly so. A support without trying to make everything impossibly better. She took a side glance at him and noted his face was set impassively as he stared forwards, hands deep inside his trouser pockets as he focused on nothing in particular.

"Fang..?" He turned his head and caught her gaze, raising an eyebrow as a response. "Do…I get to ask a question, since yours was more…personal." His jaw clenched, and Max had to hide the flinch before he looked away again, his eyes narrowing slightly at the air in front of him.

He knew it was coming, and yet he hated the idea of sharing what went on behind closed doors with another person. She'd opened up to him, and he wanted to do the same for her, it was only fair, but now it came down to the nitty gritty he didn't want to share any of the details.

What if she tried to help? What if she got hurt?

"Maybe in a few days." He didn't look back a her, but Max nodded once to acknowledge his reply before staring forwards with him, playing nervously with the keys in her pocket as they approached her door. She really didn't know what she expected to hear happened behind closed doors in Fang's house, but she _wanted_ to know, and try help him.

Unless he didn't want her help. That she could completely understand.


	10. Sticks and Stones

**Whoo, people reviewed -w- I am a happy sponge. This is where the buffer runs out, but I'm currently writing tomorrow's chapter, so it should only not update for a few days. Still in major writers block for The Road to Heaven though, which is killing me, because I loved writing that one =(**

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**Eyeliner: Irony is good. Arguing parents is bad =( hope it wasnt a big fight**

**Starsky: Yeah, Max has her own share of crapness atm =( but it'll get a little better for her soon, promise.**

**OMRD: If you read the first drafts of some of these chapters that I write when im having an insomnia attack, you would laugh your ass off at some of the stuff I write ;) I just spruce it up when im actually awake/ on a caffeene high. lol.**

**Tulip: Dont get me wrong, he _will_ open up a little more, but he's trying not to get too involved with people at the moment. After he gets some of his crap off his chest he'll start opening up a little, when he trusts her a little more. Only known her four days after all. Lol! And yeah, he's also more of a silent comforter than saying words and things, so most fot he ways he reacts to Max are dulled down to hugging comfort or hand squeezing. Give him some time, we'll make a butterfly out of that cocoon yet -w-**

**Karecitay: Lol, I had to look back three times to spell your name right =P I's sorreh I made you cry lol. And aaaaaah! Bambi eyes! *hides***

**Broken Heart: I comment on things i read that i thought were good =3 Seems kinda rude not to if they did well, but meh, not everyone shares my outlook. I blame my mother. And yeah, timezones seem to do that, since i posted one the night before for me -w-

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Thank you _all_ for reviewing =3 It makes my day to wake up to or come home from work to these things ^^

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**Part 10  
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Though he could understand why she was being quiet with him, Fang found it very annoying. He noted she was very good at putting on a face when she needed to, easily pretending to be her usual self the second someone at school had spoken to her. No one really noticed the way she slammed her locker extra hard, or flopped her forehead on her arms between exercises in classes.

Fang did, but he was good with details.

Now they were walking to pick up Iggy, running a little early because their last class had been let out ten minutes before the bell for good behaviour. Not something Fang was going to argue with, more time outside of school could never be a bad thing.

They'd stopped off at Max's house for her to wash her face and change her clothes, as they were looking a bit bedraggled and creased from being curled up on the grass. Fang had waited outside, but he heard Max talking to her dad through the pushed up door, making excuses that didn't involve him.

She probably felt bad putting the blame on him, but he really didn't mind. He'd been accused of worse crimes than being an unqualified counsellor before. The main one beginning with P. But Max was Max, and he couldn't change that fact.

Not a fact he'd want to change anyway.

He took the occasional glance at her, but she was staring at the floor virtually the whole of the first half of their walk, mulling something over silently in her head. Maybe she regretted telling him anything, thought he was going to treat her like a china doll now he knew the truth, or rat her out to the authorities. Not that they could separate the family now, he'd looked it up, she was old enough to be allowed to keep her family together if she could prove they were a functioning family.

_One morning in her house would get a huge green tick._ He looked away from her and stared ahead, letting his eyes focus on random features. The alleyway a few minutes walk away, the bird sitting on top of the lamp post just ahead. Minus the obvious tension in the air between them, it was a lovely afternoon.

Note: 'was'

"There he is." Fang blinked as he tried to place the voice behind him to a face, taking a second or two to tie it to the idiot Damien he'd dumped the milkshake on three days ago. He looked at Max briefly first, but she swung her head right round to look behind them.

"Fuck."

That one word was all that was uttered before the two took off as fast as they could down the street, pursued by Damien and three of his friends as they sprinted across busy roads and down smaller lanes, trying to throw the rabble off with no success.

"They're gaining on us!" Fang was faster than Max, but he wasn't running ahead of her. If they were going to catch either of them, he'd make sure it was him, since he was the one who's wound them up in the first place.

"Left!" Both teens dived left into an alleyway, Fang instantly cursing under his breath at the chain link fence blocking the way. It was so friggen' _cliché_ it was ridiculous, but Max launched herself at it and started climbing, losing her footing half way and falling a little way down to be stopped by Fang's cupped hands.

A quick glance was shared as he gave her a boost up, enough to get her hands to the top of the fence and allow her to pull a leg over. The goons were already in the mouth of the alleyway as Fang started tacking the obstacle, desperation stopping him making much progress as they advanced.

"Move it!" Fang swung a leg over the top and moved to flip the other over, but a hand wrapped itself around his ankle and yanked. _Hard_. He swallowed a yell when the top of the fence ripped into the thigh of his leg as he was hauled back to where he started, dropped onto the floor like garbage as the boy who's wrangled him sneered.

"Nick." He pressed a hand to his inner thigh as he looked up, a glare twisting his features as Damien loomed over him, a happy grin on his face. Fang closed his eyes slightly as he pressed harder on his leg, feeling a hand touch his arm through the link fence.

Max.

"Get outta here, Max. This doesn't concern you. For now." Damien cracked his knuckles as he took a few steps closer to Fang, who was pulling himself up against the fence as blood stained his already black jeans darker still. He looked up through his bangs, still able to feel Max's hands on his arms and shoulders, shaking slightly.

"Fuck off, Damien. Leave him alone." She growled as she turned her attention back to the sneering boy, a dangerous undertone in her voice. The boys simply laughed at her as Damien took another step closer, pressing a shoe down on the hand Fang was supporting himself with.

"Got a girlie protecting you, Nicky. How sweet." Fang squeezed his eyes shut and grunted as his foot pressed down harder, just off the kind of pressure that could case more than a bruising. "I'd say she needs to be taught a valuable lesson. Unless, of course, you want to handle this on your own Nicky Boy."

"Max," she turned her attention to Fang. His voice was slightly strained as he tried not to cry out when his foot pressed just a little harder, a sharp undertone clearly distinguishable from his usual one. "Leave."

"I cant just le-"

"For fuck's sake Max, leave!" Fang growled as he moved his bloodied hand to try and pull some of the pressure of his other one, his leg throbbing painfully as he kept his eyes squeezed tight shut. Max withdrew her hands from his back, desperately trying to think of something else to do than leave him with Damien and his friends.

"Bored." Damien broke the silence as he loosened his foot on Fang's hand, giving him just enough leeway to yank it free. "Jake, go deal with her." One of the boys behind him took to the fence, scrambling up with as much grace as a drunken elephant. Max got to her feet and backed away slightly, watching him slip and stumble every few seconds.

"I'll be fine, Max. Please, go." She look one last fleeting look at Fang, his eyes covered by his bangs as he turned his head to look at her through the fence, cradling his hand to his chest as he held her gaze. Then she ran, faster than she could ever think she could, out of sight.

She was gone before Jake even reached the top.

Fang didn't have time to be thankful she'd finally listened before he felt a hand round his neck, pulling him sharply to his feet and slamming him against the fence. It rattled as Fang raised his good hand to hold the wrist, pulling some of the pressure off his windpipe as Damien lent in close, his face contorted into a twisted grin.

"Now, Nick. I don't believe we got off on the right foot the other day. It's Damien, as I'm sure you've gathered. But that's not the missing detail here. You see, this is _my_ territory, and my school. When shits like you swan in and try to take it from me, it makes me _very_ angry," Fang closed his eyes as his leg complained about being stood on, the throbbing becoming a sharp pain shooting up into his abdomen.

"You made me look like an idiot, Nick. You need a lesson." Jake dropped down beside him again, having failed to locate the swift footed Max after she did a run for it. Fang opened his eyes and met Damien's, his face set hard and stern as he glared at him head on.

"You wanted me to make you look like a twat?"

Fang's head snapped to the side as he took a blow, feeling blood begin pooling in his mouth as he tested his jaw out. Still worked, that was always good. A hand come up and pulled his head back upright by the hair, forcing him to look his assailant in the eyes once more. Anger had replaced the twisted happiness, the hand around his neck squeezing ever so slightly tighter.

"You'll regret that, new boy."

"Fucking coward," Fang spat as he raised his throbbing hand to try help relieve some of the pressure on his neck.. "Daren't take on someone without your little gang of thugs to back you up. What's wrong, Daisy? Worried I'll kick your arse to next fucking Thursday?"

Damien's eyes narrowed as his goons exchanged glances, their slow minds gently digesting what had just been said. Fang sucked in a breath as a balled up fist came into contact with his stomach once. Twice. Three times. A final forth blow was issued before his neck was released and Fang crumpled to the floor, desperately drawing in oxygen his body was being deprived of. He groaned as a sharp kick was delivered to his gut, curling up protectively around himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's _Damien._" A kick to the back of his head added nausea to Fang's growing list of problems. He didn't even notice the boy walk away, or his gang members spit in his hair before they followed suit. He had no idea how long he laid there before he finally opened his eyes again, taking in the lack of general abuse to his person and looking about him. His head was swimming, dizziness and nausea making it hard to really pay attention to anything.

He was alone.

"Fang!" Not quite alone. He tilted his head up and blinked groggily, watching Max run towards him sideways and crouch next to him, gently lifting his head from the ground and balancing it on her knee. Fang flinched and squeezed his eyes shut again, swallowing a groan as she examined his face.

"Shit, Fang. Look at you." He grunted in annoyance and pain, shifting on her leg and rolling to the side, groaning as he attempted to pull himself to his feet. Max helped him sit upright, keeping her hands on him after he swayed and almost fell back over when she took them away.

"S'nothin'."

"Don't be stupid, you can barely stand when I'm holding you!" She wrapped his left arm around her shoulder so he could lift his pained leg from the floor, taking in the dark staining with worried eyes. "Get you back to mine, then we can call a cab and get you to a hospital."

"Don't need hospital." Fang flinched as he used his hurt foot to walk with Max, who was already starting slowly out of the alleyway and back towards the main road. She snorted as she held the right hand side of his waist, making sure he was firmly against her as they stepped awkwardly towards the traffic.

"Have you _seen_ how much blood is on your jeans?! We're going to a hospital. Deal with it."

Fang tilted his throbbing head to the side and leant it against Max's, occasionally whimpering or groaning as he used his leg until they reached the main road. They stopped and leant against a house for a few seconds. Max was already out of breath, he was damn heavy for such a skinny boy/

"The kids…" Max looked up at him. He had his head tilted back against the building, his eyes squeezed shut while he held his leg just high enough to keep it off the floor as he pressed a hand against the rip in his thigh. She could see some more blood matting his hair and hid a cringe.

"I picked up Igs and dropped him outside the other school, Ange and Gaz'll get him home ok."

Fang opened his eyes and looked down at her for a few seconds before raising his other hand, slipping it into his jeans pocket and fishing about. Moments later it was holding out a twenty dollar bill to her, even if it was shaking as he did so.

"Flag…a cab…" She hesitated for a few seconds before grabbing the note from him, moving to the edge of the curb to wave down a car. Fang was trying not to sink down against the wall as the minutes ticked by, pretty sure he'd never get back up again if he sat down now.

Finally he felt Max's hand pulling his arm around her shoulders again, her hand back on his waist as she helped him get to the taxi. She carefully placed him in the front seat before slipping in the back, telling the driver where to go as she took Fang's free hand from behind and held it tightly.

She watched him like a hawk as the taxi sped to the hospital, breaking the speed limit and jumping lights when he saw the amount of blood staining the boy's jeans. She'd expected Damien to rough him up a bit, not cause him major bodily harm.

She was going to fucking _murder_ him.


	11. Patched Up

**Ok, this is the last of the updates I have ready. AFter this, theres half a chapter and nothing else, and I'll probably end up rewriting that... ^^; So yeah...dont exect too many updates in the near future, probably weekedn or friday at the earliest .-. sorry about that dudes, just the way the cookie crumbles...**

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**Karecitay: Well. I do now, as you know x3 and thanks for the compliments on the chapter =3**

**Lilyflower: Yes, Damien might get beaten up by a girl -w- all is good wit the world again.**

**OMRD: Essays sap your soul! =O**

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**Part 11: Patched Up**

It was stupid they wouldn't let her behind the nurse's station when the phone chord was so short, so Max was at an odd angle as she lent across the counter, listening to the dial tone as she tapped her slender fingers against the table top. Five rings…six…had they gotten home ok? She turned as much as the phone would allow from the prying eyes of the nurses, finally remembering to breathe as her call was answered.

"Max?"

A pang of guilt hit her stomach as she heard Gasman's slightly scared and confused voice. She'd basically babbled that Nick might be hurt and she had to go back for him as she'd dragged Iggy to the younger kids' school, telling him to pick them up and take them home. He'd wanted to come with her, but she was gone before he could even get a word in edgewise.

Guess the general lack of information would be worse than being in the know.

"Hey Gaz. Can you put Igs on a sec?" She swallowed all the shitty feelings she was torturing herself with to keep her voice level, smiling gently into the receiver as Gasman whispered an 'ok' and scuffling signaled the phone was being handed over.

"How bad?" Iggy's more mature voice was hard and focused. She imagined his eyebrows were creased as he held the phone tightly, like he did when he was worried. She'd always wondered if he realised he was doing all of those things, considering he couldn't see himself do them, even in a mirror.

"He's being fixed up," she replied, balancing the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she hoisted herself up onto the nurse's station. Taking the receiver back in her hand she took a quick look round, the nurses there looking at her, angry creases on their faces as her behind scuffed their papers up.

"Sorry," she mouthed as she covered the receiver, shifting to move off of the papers before looking away again, removing her hand from the phone as Iggy finally spoke again.

"That doesn't tell me how bad."

"I'll bring you and the kids round to see him tomorrow, you can ask him then, ok?" She pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear again to rummage in her jeans pocket, pulling out a folded slip of paper with a number scrawled on it. "I'm phoning to let you all know he and I are alive, and I'll be home about an hour after they kick me out."

"When will that be?" She was suddenly very glad she hadn't given Iggy the gory details, since she seemed to be on speaker phone. That meant both the little kids would have been able to hear all the sickening things about blood spewing down his leg. Her dad was the one who asked the question, his voice laced with worry.

"Probably about nine. You still there Gaz?"

"Uh huh." Yup, stomach turning details could wait.

"Help Iggy find a few cans of spam or something ok? He can cook it if you help him open the tins." She unfolded the paper before taking a hold of the receiver again, briefly scanning over the number Fang had scrawled for her. "I gotta go. Need to phone Nick's parents before the nurses get peeved im using their phone to death."

She heard shuffling and presumed it was people leaving the room. The kids were capable of helping Iggy and her dad run the house without her, that she was now assured of. Thing was, she still wasn't comfortable leaving the house in the hands of two youngsters and two lenient, mischievous blind people. Somehow, it just felt like asking for an accident.

"He's not going to die is he, Max?" Angel's soft voice was so quiet, Max almost didn't hear it. She flattened the piece of paper with her free hand as her face softened. Poor kids weren't used to this kind of drama outside of Gasman getting sick.

"No, he'll be fine Ange. Don't you worry, ok?" She hoped it sounded as reassuring as she needed it to be, but wasn't entirely sure if the shake in her voice was all in her imagination or not. He was going to be ok. The one people she wouldn't lie to was her family. She was just kind of shaken up from the whole thing.

"Ok." Again almost so quiet it was like it had never been said, but Max heard it and smiled very slightly. Her little girl was so brave when the shit hit the fan.

"Now you go help Iggy and Gasman find some dinner ok?" She heard Angel mumble something before she heard the padding of bare feet on carpet. That was all of the kids out of the room, thankfully. Least she knew they'd be getting fed tonight, and she could just go home and flop into bed when the time came around.

"Want any of us up there with you, Poppet?"

"I'm alright Dad. I better get a hold of his folks though." She straightened up again, her free hand now flat on the piece of paper that had tried to flutter to the floor seconds before. "They're probably wondering why he hasn't dropped his stuff off to go to the park with his friends yet."

"Alright. See you in the morning. Don't worry if you get home late, Iggy and I can handle things here."

"Thanks Dad." She smiled slightly as she whispered into the phone, playing with the piece of paper absently. She always felt kind of cruel, making out her father was the one keeping her indoors all the time. He was a _way_ cool Dad.

"Miss?" Max blinked up at the nurse just as the phone line went dead, taking a few seconds to look at the woman before spinning round to replace the phone on its holder. When she turned back, the nurse was holding a handful of slightly mismatched objects out to her.

A couple of pieces of folded paper, a set of keys and a granola bar.

Max furrowed her brow slightly as she took the items from the nurse, trying to connect the dots as she stared at them. It was a few seconds before it _really_ clicked in her head where they were from. The granola bar gave it away.

"Thought they'd be safe with you, as you came in with him. You do know him personally, right?" She looked up at the nurse and nodded once in confirmation before looking down again, playing with the pieces of paper before stacking them on top of the granola bar. She'd give it back to him in a few days, or he'd probably try and eat it on his dodgy stomach.

"Yes." She finally replied as she looked back up at the nurse, holding the items tightly in her hand. "Friend from school."

"He gets into a lot of fights doesn't he?" Max creased her eyebrows again as the woman smiled half heartedly. "I was reading his history. He was in her not too long ago for being beaten up on the street. Maybe the same people?"

_Not likely, he hadn't started school._ "Maybe. I don't think anyone's really sure."

"Well, maybe you could give him reason to say out of trouble, if you catch my drift." The nurse winked at her before grabbing a chart off the nurses station, slipping a pen into her pocket. "He's been asking if you've finished your calls yet almost virtually since you left. Missing you already." She smiled widely before tottering off down a corridor, leaving Max with her mouth slightly open, blinking confusedly.

He didn't act like he liked her that much, especially not like _that._ Yeah, they hung out as friends after school, helped each other with homework as friends did, but he'd never tried to make a pass at her. Barely even touched her, and that was to comfort her when she was crying.

Did he like her more than a friend?

The papers in her hand almost fell from her grasp, pulling her out of her mind and back into the real world as she scrambled to catch them. The one that almost made it she caught with two fingers, the little piece of paper half unfolding in the process. Max pulled it back onto her lap and picked up the phone again, ready to dial the number Fang had written down for her.

As the phone rang, Max played with the half folded paper curiously, taking a few seconds to debate an idea. Moments later the receiver was jammed between her shoulder and ear as she unfolded the paper properly, scanning her eyes over the contents.

Having sat next to him in virtually every class all week, it was easy to recognise Fang's scratchy penmanship. Three numbers were written on the lines of the notepaper, followed by a few words Max scanned over, her eyebrows creased together.

_Free daily care for the blind…benefit cocktail check list…carer's benefits? _

She refolded the first piece of paper and opened the second, waiting for someone to answer the phone. This one was similar. Websites for legislation, a number to ring to get certified as a young carer, what needs to be done to check that she was able to look after her family.

As she read over it all again and again, something in her head slotted into place. She'd have noticed if he'd been writing these down in computer studies, and even then they hadn't had that lesson today. She'd only told him about everything this morning. Her stomach did another nosedive as her brain finally registered what she was concluding.

He'd looked them up _before _she'd told him.

"Hello?" Max almost fell off the nurses' station when a female voice finally sounded down the phone. She'd forgotten she had the receiver pressed to her ear. Letting her pulse rate drop again, Max ignored the paper that flitted to the floor, deciding to pick it up when this call was over.

"Uh, Mrs. Arnold?" There was a short pause.

"That was my name before I remarried, yes. Can I help..?" Least he'd given her the right number. Though to be fair she'd pestered it out of him while he was high on painkillers. Probably wasn't thinking straight.

"This is Nick's friend Max, from school."

"I'm sorry, Nick hasn't come home yet. Would you like me to rela-"

"No, I'm calling _about _Nick, Ma'am." Max interrupted her, certain if she let her get to the end of that sentence she'd chicken out, leave a false message and hang up the phone. There was another short silence before Max took a deep breath.

"We're at the hospital. Nick's been injured…"

*~*~*~*

Fang laid with his eyes closed, slightly propped up against the back of his hospital bed with a good few pillows supporting his head. Not that he was leaning on the back, more like the side, where there wasn't a stitched up gash trying to bleed on everything. The nurse had gone to get more bandage, as she'd used virtually all of it fixing up his thigh.

For the first time in a couple of hours, he was alone. He decided in that small space of time that he didn't want to be alone, it was too damn quiet. He could feel his heart beating in his ears, but there was nothing to distract him from it.

He swallowed a groan as he shifted his leg on the bed, not turning his head as he did so. He had to lay on his back because of his leg, yet needed to keep his head at an angle because of the gash there as well. Needless to say it wasn't the most comfortable of positions.

And his painkillers were wearing off.

The second they'd gotten through the hospital doors, Fang was plopped into a wheelchair and was pushed through the many weaving corridors of the hospital he wished he'd never have to visit again, or at least not twice within the same month. Not that he remembered the route to his room either. His eyes had been tightly shut against all the random pains in his body.

When transferred to a bed, the nurses and a doctor started examining the damage. Max was standing in the room and telling them what she'd found that hurt on the way here, asking him if there was any detail she'd missed.

Problem was Fang wasn't paying attention. In amongst the pain and the blood, all his hazy brain really focused on outside of the painful stuff was the doctor as he clapped his hands and called for someone to lift Fang's behind off the bed, so they could get his trousers off and assess the nasty wound before he bled too much.

Before he could even utter an opinion his jeans were gone, leaving him in a black shirt and his boxers in front of about five stranger and the girl he was A) falling for and b) had barely known for a week

Fang had never been so embarrassed in all his life. And this was as far from how his testosterone driven teenage mind would have pictured Max seeing him in his boxers for the first time.

Max had pulled a chair up against his bed and held his bruised hand very gently, unable to hold the other once since an IV was being put in it, to replace the glucose and everything else he'd lost when his blood had been spewing out all over the poor taxi driver's car.

His leg had jerked and the silent façade dropped when antiseptic was pressed to his leg.

"Shit!" Max lightly stroked the back of his hand as he squeezed his eyes tight, setting his jaw. Max's hand then migrated to gently stroking his face, wiping away a few strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. "That fucking canes!"

A few seconds after the initial pain a needle was pressed into his leg, the cool liquid slowly numbing the whole of his thigh as the nurse continued to clean the wound. It was all plain sailing from there as he was cleaned up and stitched up, Max leaving him with the nurse just as she started wrapping bandage around a dressing she was holding over the new stitches.

He flexed the fingers of his bruised hand as he tried to get comfortable in his pillow, the throbbing in his head slowly getting more and more prominent as he tried to relax. His leg was a dull ache by now, but the anaesthesia had yet to completely wear off.

Not only that, but his head was working overtime. Max had conned his home number out of him while he was in a painkiller induced delirium , that meant it was very likely his mother was going to turn up crying her eyes out before the evening was over. Something his throbbing head could do without.

The nurse returned a few minutes later with a new set of bandages and spme padding for the wound, pulling him up carefully into a more upright position before wheeling a tray over from the far side of the corner. He glanced down at hit before she tiled his head gently to the side, dabbing a damp cloth against the stitches in the back of his head.

Antispetic again. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, letting the nurse get on with it until she pressed the padding to the stitches and started wrapping the bandage around it, holding the padding in place. A few moments later his head was back on the pillow, more painkillers were dissolving in his stomach and Fang was subjected to silence once more.

He creased his brow as a wave of nausea hit him, wishing his stomach would settle after being kicked in. Nurse had told him he wasn't to eat until tomorrow lunchtime at the earliest, and that he was going to be in here for at least three days. He'd have to miss school tomorrow.

He was going stir crazy already. He could feel a hand on his head.

He opened his eyes to see Max back in the chair beside his bed, lightly stroking her fingers down his cheek over and over. Ok, not _totally_ crazy, but he was probably bordering on it as he attempted a smile that most likely looked like he was constipated.

"Hey." He wanted to cringe at his own voice. It sounded weak and tired, hoarse as his throat scratched slightly. He wanted the floor to swallow him up, so Max wouldn't see him looking so damn frail.

"Hey," She whispered it as a very small, reassuring smile touched her lips. He could help but smile back, more genuine this time, before closing his eyes again, adjusting his head on the pillow as her fingers softly swept down his chin and neck. "I called your Mum…"

"Guessed you would…"

"She said Mike forgot his key and she needs to be home for when he gets home, and that she'd come over tomorrow." Fang really wasn't that surprised. He didn't like his wife having a life outside of him, probably in case she realised he was treating her like shit. He'd probably 'forgotten' his key on purpose so she had to stay home. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, since they'd been right by the door a few times and he'd just left them on the table.

He'd spouted lies about her old friends, brainwashed her into thinking they wouldn't want any contact with her now she's moved away, as well as being kept indoors almost _all_ the time, so making new friends was difficult.

She wasn't even allowed a job, not that it was necessary on his salary.

"K…" Max continued to trace her fingers over his cheek and jaw, watching his expressions closely. Occasionally his face would screw up, or his jaw tighten. Presumably from pain he was refusing to voice, or something of that nature. Over the next half an hour, his face was slowly relaxing, his flinches lasting shorter amounts of time.

He was falling asleep.

She didn't blame him. He must be exhausted, not to mention oxygen deprived from the blood his body needed to replace. She lightly traced the scar under his eye as he repositioned his head in his pillow, his bruised hand flexing absently. He looked delicate, fragile, not something Max expected from him.

Five minutes later, he was out like a light. Max took her hand from his face and folded it into her lap, watching him breathe steadily. His face was relaxed and calm, not showing any emotion but at the same time not trying to hide anything. She couldn't help but smile. He looked so peaceful, like the kids when she put them to bed.

He fidgeted slightly and licked his lips, still fast asleep as a small sigh escaped his mouth before they pressed back together again. The position he had to lay in couldn't be comfortable. He was probably going to sprain his neck if he kept laying like that. Max tentatively leant forwards and touched the back of his head, pressing softly where the wound had been sewn up. No reaction. She pressed a little harder, the kind of pressing she assumed would come from resting your head against something, and still got no response.

Carefully, she manoeuvred his head so he was laying on the back, looking up at the ceiling. She took her hands away and watched him sleep for God knows how long, slipping her hand into her pocket to clutch the numbers he'd written down for her as she watched him furrow then relax his eyebrows, his hand flexing randomly as he dreamt.

He knew the truth about her before she'd admitted it. He'd gone to the trouble of finding out this information for her, trying to help make her life easier. He may not have been one to voice it in words, but she _knew_ he cared much more than he was actively letting on. In that respect, they shared something. They shared the desire to help one another, something Fang had already acted upon. Something Max was incredibly willing to do as well.

And she'd start with Damien.


	12. Let me Help You

**Ok. This one is slightly short, because I rewrote half of the chapter today and the rest of it after a ten hour shift at work. To say the least, I am tired x3 So, here's the next part of the story, I hope you like.**

**Please R&R It makes me happy when i get home from long days at work ^**

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**Karecitay: Read and find out =P And thanks for the review ^^**

**Trafficcone: First off, love the name. lol. Thanks for the review =3 here's an update. Hope you like.**

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**Part 12 **

No one at their school was surprised not to see Max in classes the following day. She often didn't turn up for reasons she'd never let on, even to her friends. They deduced she was bunking off school, forging letters from her dad to explain her absence.

Though it seemed reasonably un-Max like, everyone just went with it.

Even though she was yet again missing, the talk of the day was why Nick wasn't in. The boy hadn't missed a day of school since he started, and had seemed perfectly well the day before. Rumours began to fly about him, about how he got the scar under his eye, the gash that had healed barely two days ago on his cheek. He seemed dangerous, a bit of a loose cannon to those who didn't know him.

Suddenly every girl in his year wanted to date him. Because they were fickle. Because he was _different_. He represented everything they wanted to be in their lives but didn't have the balls to try and pull off. Mystery, danger.

That was, until the more vicious rumours spread just before lunch.

Someone had made the connection Max was missing from classes, the first day this week, on exactly the same day as the Nick guy. They'd been friends since day one, sitting together in classes and at lunch. One girl said she'd seen them in the park a number of times after school together, that the overlarge jacket she'd taken to wearing was supposedly Nick's.

If he was dangerous, had he turned on her? Had they had a fight and one of them got injured? It was quickly decided that every girl in his year would be _frightened _of him, in case they too came under his fists if they pissed him off.

Max's friends shrugged all of the rumours off, standing up for the guy they knew Max had fallen head over heels for, even if she was too damn stubborn to admit it. He didn't strike them as aggressive, just quiet. Mistreated, maybe. He wouldn't hurt Max and made damn sure they spread that around like wildfire alongside the other rumours.

Though, the others were soon being spread by Damien's crew, so they were majorly overshadowed.

By lunchtime, Nick's supposed aggression was the talk of the school. People who'd never heard of him seemed to be afraid of his name when it was mentioned. All Maddy and Janine could do was hope that when Max did return she could straighten everything out.

Which is exactly what she did, just not in the way they expected.

It was the middle of lunchtime, the cafeteria flying with the hubbub of a normal lunch period as people gossiped and filled their rumbling stomachs, when the main doors at the top of the hall flew open with a bang. Every head in the place turned to see Max standing there, her face creased in anger as she stared at Damien's table.

"She's not hurt.

"Maybe she turned on him."

"Is she even that strong?"

"I wouldn't want to find out."

Whispers followed Max down the hall as she strode determinedly to the 'popular' table, where Damien, his gang and their usual crowd of cheerleaders and sluts sat for lunch. She saw Damien lean in and mumble something to the girl next to him, who immediately giggled and shared whatever it was with the girls nearest her as Damien got to his feet and turned to face Max.

The hall was silent as Ma continued to close the distance, clenching and unclenching the hand not holding her bag as she did so. Damien smirked, making her see even more red than before, the anger bubbling beneath her skin as he opened his mouth.

"We all thought Nick had beaten the shi-" He was cut short as Max's fist met with his face, catching him under the jaw and sending him back a few steps as he regained his composure. Before he had time to think, her knee connected with his stomach and he dropped to his hands and knees.

The hall gasped in unison. If she wasn't so mad, Max would have found it hilarious.

"The first was for ganging up on him." She was shaking very slightly, the hand clutching her bag squeezing the straps very tightly. "That was for putting him in hospital. And _this_-" She punctuated the harsh tone with another kick to his stomach, eliciting a groan as the boy held himself on all fours. "- is for putting him on crutches."

Two strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her arms behind her back sharply, Max dropping her bag in surprise and squirming to get out of their grasp as Damien pulled himself to his feet. He was holding his stomach slightly with one hand, like he was going to be sick, the nice purple bruise developing under his chin making Max smirk despite her situation.

"You shouldn't have done that." The venom in his voice was lost on his wonky posture and wobbly steps as he advanced on her, ready to take a swing at the restrained girl in front of him.

"Nick was right, you _are_ a fucking coward." She spat as the goons held her arms tighter. "Hitting a restrained girl! Have you no shame under that shit faced exterior?" Her head snapped back as he punched her square in the eye. Rolling her head to the side as she tried to get her bearings again, she just missed another punch that connected with the guy on her right. His arm loosened around hers as he stumbled.

An opening was all she needed.

She yanked her arm free and swooped down to grab her bag in a fluid movement, connecting it with Damien's face as it went full circle to hit the guy holding her left arm. He stumbled as it connected with his cheek with a bone crunching crack, yelping in pain and putting both of his hands to his face.

The goon who got a black eye backed off as she glared at him, her eye swelling slightly as she looked between him and Damien, who was crumpled on the floor, holding his head and stomach. She swung the heavy bag back on her bag and walked calmly out the doors she'd come through, ignoring the open mouthed faces of her friends.

Packing bricks from that construction site had definitely been a good idea.

*~*~*~*

Fang sighed as he pulled himself upright in bed, looking longingly down the hallway wishing he could actually get up and walk to the bathroom without needing to call a nurse and a wheelchair. Its not that he _needed_ to go to the bathroom, it was more a case of principle.

He hated being dependant on other people. It was frustrating.

He leant his head back on the propped up pillows and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the fact he was, yet again, alone. He used to like being alone, it was easier than actually taking to people. Then he'd met Max. Now, when she wasn't around, it was like he had lost a leg or something.

"No, Gaz! 301 not 310!" Fang furrowed his eyebrows before opening his eyes again, tilting his head to the side to look down the hallway. Was he thinking about her too much? He _swore_ he just heard her voice float down the hall. He looked up at the cubical number attached to his bed.

310. Ok, _now _he was delusional.

"I don't see him Max…" That was Angel's voice. He certainly hadnt been thinking about her before now. Maybe he needed to see a doctor about his head again, or at least his medication. He tilted his head sideways again, yet there was no one coming down the corridor for him. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of less Max-like things.

"You know, I cant see _anything_. Maybe we should start a fan club." _Go away delusion driven copy of Max's family!_

"There he is!" Fang's eyes popped open and he couldn't help but smile. There was Max and her whole brood, the younger kids running down the corridor towards his bed as she led Iggy slowly and steadily down the isle between the beds. Angel threw her arms around his neck as soon as she got to him, Gasman stopping just short of doing the same, trying to act more grown up minus the wide smile on his face.

"Nick! We were so worried! Are you ok?" Angel's tiny arms tightened around his neck as she looked at him worriedly, taking in the stitches in his head. He still looked slightly pale, but the IV had been removed from his hand, his stomach now happy to take solid food.

"I'm fine, Ange." He smoothed her curls and she smiled broadly at him, leaning forwards to give him a wet kiss on the cheek.

"Let him breathe, Angel!" Max settled Iggy into the seat on the other side of the bed before finally meeting Fang's face, a lightly smile paying on her lips.

"You look better."

"You don't. What happened to your eye?" His eyebrows furrowed as soon as he saw it. It wasn't exactly easy to miss. Her left eye was puffy and slightly swollen, some of it going a dark purple colour. She shrugged, hoping to let it slide.

"She got into a fight." _Oh, if he wasn't blind…_

"A fight?" Fang looked over at Iggy, who was watching him with freaky accuracy again as he nodded once, leaning back in his seat and folding one gangly leg over another.

"With the guy that put you in here." His attention turned back to Max, who looked away from his eyes sheepishly before picking up Gasman and sitting him on the side of the bed, running her finger's through the boys curls as she looked down at him.

"We…kinda got in trouble for it…" Fang furrowed his brow as she continued. "Fucking school. They wouldn't punish him for hurting you because 'it happened off of school property', but he got three weeks detention for giving me the black eye…"

A few minutes of silence followed as Max pulled a few knots from the boys hair, kissing his head as Fang finally broke it. "And you..?"

"I got suspended for week." She replied as she finally looked up from Gassy's mass of curls, catching Fang's eyes again. He smiled slightly as Max lifted Gasman from the bed and sent him to play with Angel, who was sitting with the kids toys just a few feet away from Fang's bed.

"Could have been worse."

"Yup. I also figured, with that leg of yours, you'd kind of be bed ridden for the following week anyway…so…I could come and see you while the kids were in school..?"

Fang's eyebrows shot up at first, slightly surprised and amused Max had just invited herself round his house for the next week. Then they furrowed and his jaw set as he thought about it further. She might have the misfortune to meet his step father.

"I'm not taking no for an answer." He focused on her face again, her features set determinedly as she sat herself on the very edge of his bed. "I bet your mum hasn't been in again, am I right?"

She was.

"If she'd more concerned about that step dad of yours, I want to be there. Make sure someone is actually caring for _you, _since you'll be the incapacitated one."

_You havent seen Mike when he's drunk…_ "Thanks, but you don't ha-…"

"I _want _to." Her hand found his as she held his gaze, almost intense as his own had been that first night out in the park. She gently stroked the back of his hand as her features softened, her other hand coming up to lightly stroke his cheek.

"I want to, Fang. Please, let me help you."


	13. An Unorthadox Date

**Ok, I've been ill and crappy recently and made this chapter fluffy and sweet to cheer myself up -w- so shoot me lol. This was a pain in the butt to get written for some reason, i think a cross between not being able to find the time and when i do have the time, being too tired to string coherent sentences together...**

**Either way, really worry for the wait .-. Its a full length one this time, hopefully to make up for it, and it's FAX-y for the fax fans reading this. Hopefully not overbaringly so. Also, my second _real_ attempt as explaining a kiss without being melodramatic and uber corny on your asses. Please critique if you can, as this is kind of a weak spot for me.**

**And, randomly, I found my my best mate had a gay fetish today...lol... _thats_ why she wanted Sam to be gay...**

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**Stephsteph: Yeah...i kinda rushed that bit, you can tell right? .-. never mind...cant change it now, lol. But, thanks for the review, it did make me smile after work ^^**

**Person95: Many thankyees for the review, glad you liked it =3**

**Iggy4ever (1): Lol, thanks =P I think...hopefully my writing style is ok**

**(3): Glad you enjoyed it x3**

**(10): I reread this to decipher what was awesome, but i cant even remember what the contents of that chapter were anymore... ^^; glad you enjoyed it though =3**

**(12) That he didnt, lol...**

**Crimson Scarz: Thanks for the constructive criticism. Yeah, I often re read them, usually at least three times, before I post them, but I have a bad tendency to skim things. I'll try make sure i re read them properly form hereon out =3 Spelling errors are most likely typos, as my left hand types much faster than my write, so letters get misplaced and muddled alot... ^^; Many thanks for the review, glad you like it =3 I tried to keep them close to the originals and create family situation and stuff that would keep them in their actual characteristics.**

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**Part 13**

Sighing, Fang tilted his head back into the pillows, trying desperately to distract himself from being alone once again. It was Saturday. Max had visited him this morning with the kids, and left when Nudge had turned up just after lunch, saying she'd be back tomorrow.

For once, he hadn't minded Nudge's incessant chattering as she talked to him, filling him in on random gossip from school and some of her friends, even mentioned how his mum was feeling a few times, but never brought up her dad. She knew by now he just didn't care, it was always the same kind of health report anyway.

Drunk off his head.

Now she'd left too, been sent home by the nurses as they put the hospital in a sedated state for the night. It could never close down completely, since health services needed to be open at all hours, and there was some activity down the hall from his bed.

He considered pressing the button next to his bed and ask for a wheelchair to the toilet, to break the incessant boredom, but they'd probably figure out why he kept doing it after another few attempts, having already done it five times in the last two hours.

He looked to his left, near the window, and smiled gently as the balloon Nudge had brought him in swayed absently in the air. Next to it sat a card signed by his mum, Nudge and his step dad, wishing him well. Not that any of them besides Nudge had made the effort to get come and see him, but he could forgive his mum.

She did what she was told, she didn't get hurt. That was better than seeing her.

His smile faded as a nurse ambled past him and pulled the blinds shut, getting ready to turn off the main lights and leave the small emergency bulbs on in case they were needed. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling as he sighed, flexing his now unpainful hand with the fading bruise as he itched to get up and hobble about.

"Mr. Arnold." He turned his head sideways to look at the owner of the voice, a small, young looking doctor with a cart in his hand. "We just need to run a test before we let you sleep for the night, if you don't mind. That way the results can be attained by morning."

"What's the test for?" He hoped to God it wouldn't require needles. As irrational fears go, Fang was pretty clear of them on whole, but he hated the little pointy things with a vengeance. Possibly more than he hated his step father, though he hadn't really thought about it that way.

"Just a simple blood test." _Shit, needles._ "Make sure everything's running as it should before we send you home."

"Sure," Fang kept his voice flat and emotionless as a nurse wheeled a wheelchair into the room, moving to help him from the bed seconds later. If he didn't already have the shakes from his wounded leg, the nurse might have noted the sudden unease in the way he walked. He was putting all of his energy into not thinking about sharp, pointy objects and his skin coming into close contact.

He felt like he was going to faint.

Luckily, he was flopped into the wheelchair before such problems could become an issue, his feet gently listed into the footholds. He winced slightly as the damaged thigh was rearranged before resting his arms on the wheelchair arms, tilting his head back as he tried not to hyperventilate.

"Why cant we do it here?" A very slightly waver infiltrated his calmness as the nurse draped a blanket over his lap and spun the chair round, letting the doctor lead the way out of his curtained off cubicle and down the hallway.

"We're expecting an emergency any minute, its easier to take you to the equipment than vice versa when we expect a sudden rush." He didn't look up from his chart as Fang studied the back of his head. He could feel sweat trying to break out across his skin, and gripped the arms of his wheelchair almost unnoticeably as they stopped outside a conference room just a few feet down the hall.

Why did they have blood test equipment in a conference room?

The doctor's pager beeped, and he immediately nodded to the nurse behind the wheelchair, who jogged off down the hallway. It was then his gaze finally met Fang's again. "That's the emergency. Need me to get the door for you?"

"I'll be fine, thanks." The doctor didn't need any more encouragement before disappearing down the hallway, though Fang noted the second he got to where he might have been out of sight he began walking, a small smile on his face as he chatted to another nurse before heading out of sight completely.

Suddenly, he didn't like this situation.

Fang glanced back at the door, studying it. It looked like any other door in this place, solid metal. Taking a few seconds to compose his frightened and now slightly jumpy mind, he took a deep breath before leaning forwards and flipping the handle down.

With the door now ajar, he turned the wheelchair backwards and wheeling to the door back first, so he wouldn't press his bad leg to it and cause it any unnecessary movement. The bright light inside the room slowly engulfed him as he entered, but he didn't look behind before he was completely clear of the door and it swung shut with a gentle click.

He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to look round, especially if it was going to be another nurse holding a large, blood extracting needle. He slowly back his wheelchair up a little before turning it round to face what was behind him.

And was…pleasantly surprised.

On the rather small conference table was a dull looking brown box, the word **Pizza** written across it in red, green and white letters making it look very slightly cheerful. A paper plate was positioned on the side of the table facing him, and a candle, despite the main light being on, was flickering in the middle of the table.

On the other side of the table was Max, her head dipped out of sight as she rummaged in a carrier bag she'd brought with her, looking for something. Fang silently wheeled his chair up to the table, leaning his arms on it once his legs were under it and studying her cheek.

Max's head popped up a few seconds later, a bottle of fizz and two plastic cups in her hands as she turned her attention back forwards. Her outgrown bangs had been plaited and pushed behind her ears, keeping her face clear of any hair as she looked forwards and found her eyes meeting Fang's own, intense ones.

"…Uh…" She blinked stupidly for a few seconds, like she hadn't expected him to be there, before plonking the fizz and cups on the table and opening her arms wide, a small smile on her face. "Surprise?"

A lopsided smirk curled his lips when Max smiled, opening her arms wide to suggest the whole room was a surprise to be in existence, not just her being here with a pizza. He leant forwards and balanced his elbows on the table, propping his head on his hands as he tilted his head very slightly.

"Surprise?" He asked in a soft monotone, the smirk still refusing to leave.

"You know…because…we were supposed to go out…" Max had dropped his gaze in favour of putting all her strength into unscrewing the fizz bottle, popping it with a loud fizzing before finally speaking again. "And you obviously aren't in any state to, or will be, for a while…"

"I'm out of here tomorrow," he stated as he watched her pour a glass of fizz and slide it across the table to him. "Only not allowed to move for a week. Then I'll be back at school."

"Seriously?" Max half scoffed as she poured herself a cup. "Most kids in your position would be milking it for all its worth, not being obliged to turn up at school for three weeks. If I were you I'd just sit back and rest up for a bit, enjoy the freedom."

_Like I'd be able to rest with my step dad hanging about. _"But you aren't me, and I'd rather be at school."

She shrugged, muttering a 'whatever' as she screwed the cap back on the bottle and dropped down to place it on the floor, taking a sip from her cup before turning the pizza box to face her and flipping the lid open. The delicious smell had Fang's stomach in knots as it drifted towards him. Two days of hospital food was _torture_.

"I didn't know what pizza you liked," she stated idly as she lifted his plate from in front of him and loaded it with half a pizza. "So I got one of those with every kind of meat under the sun on it, and asked for extra meat and cheese."

She smiled slightly as she held it out to him, seeing him reach for it with just a little too much enthusiasm for a normal person. She watched him take a bite and close his eyes, chewing that first piece ever so slowly.

Max had to bite her lip to stop a giggle. "Would you like to get a room?"

Fang blinked before realising _what_ he'd been acting like and quickly swallowed, reaching for his cup and taking a long drag from it. He blamed the painkillers for his slip in how well he kept his face straight. He'd just have to be more conscious of his movements for a little while.

"Nope." He stated simply before taking another bite and this time chewing it hungrily, barely tasting it before it slipped down his throat. Max's smirk remained as she pulled a piece from the box and took a bite herself, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"I…also wanted to thank you." Fang furrowed his eyebrows as he finished the first pizza crust and reached for another slice, savouring the taste of real food after the hospital mush. What did she want to thank him for? He should be thanking _her _for beating the shit out of Damien.

"For what?" he asked before taking a large, brutish bite out of his second piece of pizza, holding her gaze as he chewed. It still tasted like heaven on a pizza base.

"For the numbers…"

_Waitwut…when did I give her those..?_

She tilted her body sideways and slipped a had into her jeans pocket, pulling out a few items and placing them on the table. Fang instantly recognised them as the contents of the trousers the nurse had removed when he first came in: A set of keys, his trusty granola bar and…those folded papers…

"The nurse gave them to me when she threw your trousers away, asked me to keep a hold of them for you…" She slid the keys and granola bar towards him, which he picked up and placed on his lap, out of the way. His pizza hung limply in his hand, neglected as he focused all his attention on Max.

"These…were for me, right..?" She unfolded one of the pieces of paper and slid it slightly towards him, as if he needed the visual confirmation to be certain they were what he thought they were. Numbers for her to call about getting assistance at home, extra funding on top of the benefits her dad and possibly Iggy got from the government.

_Damn nurse…What do I say to that..?_ "…She threw away my trousers?"

He said it with such seriousness, Max couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat. He smirked slightly as she sat back in her seat, refolding the paper she'd shown him before playing with it on the table, fingers leaving slightly greasy stains on the paper.

"But anyway…thank you…" she looked back up at him, a small, grateful smile pulling at her lips as she finally fully folded the paper again. He smiled back, not noticing large chunks of meat falling off his pizza and dropping to the plate.

"No problem," he finally answered, mirroring Max as her smile grew wider. "Were they helpful..?"

"I'm getting a lump sum as back pay to the time I could have begun claiming the money caring for Iggy and Dad," she said thoughtfully as she pulled a piece of pepperoni off her pizza and plonked it onto the plate in front of her. "As well as some for caring for the younger kids…and a little as child support…but…"

"But..?"

"They want to evaluate my effectiveness as a 'parental substitute'." She made air quotes around the last two words, her pizza squishing slightly as she did so. "See how I run the house for a day, and…decide…if I can keep caring for the kids…" She looked down and pulled another piece of pepperoni off absently, seeming to sink into a slight depression as the idea hung freshly over her head.

"Then you'll definitely get the money." She gazed up at Fang through her eyelashes as he took a bite of lukewarm pizza, chewed and swallowed.

"How can you be su-"

"I've seen the way you look after them." He stated softly, not taking his eyes from hers as she looked back at him properly again. "How much you care for them. I _know_ what time you get up every morning to make sure all the work's done."

"How could you possibly…"

"Iggy." _Oh, that boy is going down…_

"Max." She refocused from glaring at a piece of pepperoni, her stare faltering as he gave her a soft yet piercing look. "If anyone declared you weren't caring for the kids properly, they'd be declared insane the very next day. I don't know _anyone_ who could do what you do and still get up every morning without fail, or anyone so dedicated to their family."

She could feel tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, a mix between the fear of losing her siblings, the worry of having to try and show this examiner that they were fine as a functioning family, and what Fang was saying.

"You have no reason to worry, Max. Just be yourself, and you'll be fine."

She blinked back the tears as she smiled softly at Fang, who gave her that half smile she adored right back before motioning to the pizza on her plate, the first slice still half eaten and slightly disassembled.

"S'going cold."

*~*~*~*

Max watched Fang as he settled back into bed, the nurse wrapping his blankets up to his middle after he made himself as comfortable as he could. He looked as tired as she felt, his eyes already closing as he nestled his head into a pillow. She could help but smile as he tilted his head towards her, his eyes closed.

He looked adorable.

It wasn't how either of them had imagined it, but she and Fang had just had their first night out together. In a hospital, with him incapacitated in a wheelchair, but a night out all the same. Her brain was still all afloat with the evening as they'd talked about everything and anything for hours.

Now, only one thing was really troubling her: Fang's avoidance when it came to questions about his family. She'd asked a few that evening, out of pure curiosity, but every time any of it came up he'd resort to single word answers and a quick change of subject. It was frustrating, not being able to get any kind of sense out of him.

Boys. They _had_ to be difficult.

He opened his eyes sleepily and raised an eyebrow at her grimace, but she shook her head before taking a few steps closer again, kneeling down to be level with the edge of his bed, her face inches from his as he finally smiled back.

"Sweet dreams, Fang." It came out as a whisper, her hand finding its way into his hair, lightly stroking the back of his head. He closed his eyes again and sighed softly, seemingly tilting his head a little into his hand before his own found its way out from under the sheets, taking a hold of her cheek.

"You're getting a taxi home, right?" She could see the sudden worry reflected in his eyes as his thumb gently stroked her cheek, keeping her attention on his face as her smile dropped slightly.

"I don't have any money to…"

"Then stay on well lit roads, ok?" She nodded once, the worry in his eyes lessening as his smile returned again, thumb still lightly sweeping over her skin. She stayed crouched like that for a few more minutes, watching him absently close his eyes and breathe softly for a few minutes at a time, fighting the urge to drift off.

The colour was returning to his face, his jaw loose and relaxed instead of creased up in pain. Max finally really looked at him since that first day of school, the chocolate brown eyes peeking out from under his lashed when he looked at her, the small crease on one side his mouth from his half smiles, his thin, slightly cracked lips.

That was when his hand pulled her head forwards, and his lips met her own.

Max's eyes stayed open for a few seconds as she leant a hand forwards against his bed, stopping herself from tumbling over and hitting her head. Though she wasn't sure if she had _already_ hit her head as she studied Fang's closed eyes. She felt his lips press against hers gently, softly, warm against her own.

A few seconds was all it took for Max to close her eyes and kiss back.

Maybe he was too tired to really account for his own actions, or the pain medication was messing with his head. Max wasn't entirely sure if it was any of those, or if this was something Fang _really_ wanted. She didn't want to think about it as she gently pulled at his lower lips with her own, tilting her head into his still stroking hand as the world around her quickly became nothing but background noise.

Though she didn't want to admit it to herself, this was something _she _wanted. She slipped onto her knees and lifted herself up a little, making herself level with Fang as her hand played with his hair, very softly skimming over the stitches that had been exposed to the air for the majority of the day, taking her sweet time before finally pulling away, feeling the need to breathe.

Her eyes fluttered open before his, taking in his slightly flushed face as she slipped her hand down to gently stroke along his jaw. They opened a couple of seconds after, half shielded by his bangs as he held her gaze with an intense stare, feeling the heat leave his face as he watched Max's do the same.

Neither of them smiled, nor moved, nor spoke, for a few minutes, because they didn't know what to say. That was, until Fang finally found his voice.

"Well…" Not much of a voice, but still enough to start the cookie rolling again. A small smirk spread across his face as Max's cheeks flared red again as she looked down slightly, taking her hand from his face and folding it in her lap as she flopped her butt back onto her calves.

"Well…" she repeated, trying not to look at him, trying to think of a way to get out of this awkward situation. Yes, she'd just had a non official date with him, but…kisses. They were another step. One she really didn't think they were going to hit tonight.

Did he regret it?

His hand cupped her chin and brought her head back up, almost forcing her to look back at his eyes. She was certain her own face was swimming with uncertainty as he took it all in, that smirk still on his face as he pulled her in closer again.

Did he think her kissing was humorous? Was he kidding about?

"Max," Her heart did an embarrassing flutter as she felt his breath on her cheek, his face so close to her own as he spoke. He was still staring at her intently, as if he was searching for something in her eyes, but showed no sign of if he found it amongst the confusion and worry, even embarrassment, swimming in her eyes and face.

"You're beautiful when you blush."


	14. Stairs: The Ultimate Evil

**Alrightly, a couple of little things to put in here:**

**1) I'm sorry for the extra few days wait for this chapter. It took longer to inspire than I thought it would so this is the next bit now. Slight bit of plot progression here and not much else, lol.**

**2) I wont be updating for a few days. I have no buffer, have work til late tomorrow, and _also_ have a friend round tomorrow night to sleep. So I wont have writing time, as she's getting her literally straight after I get home.**

**3) This fic is going to reach a point where it's not for the faint hearted. Its an M for a reason now, but things have evolved that need to be added to the warnings list. These include: _Violence, gory descriptions, adult situations, rape, angst, character death, lemons and limes_. Warning will be goven for the latter two, and they wont be vital to the plot. If you wont want to read lemons/ limes, they can be skipped as there wont be any plot progression in a part with a lemon/ lime, but the following part after a little *~*~*~ thing probably is important, so be careful not to miss more than one lump =P but I've been dared to try and write a few...lol...**

**Thanks for that one. Do keep reading and reviewing ^^ It makes me a happy Kitten**

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**OMRD: Im glad it cheered you up a little =) It cheered me up writing it lol ^^**

**stephsteph: lol, I falter in my updates alot, as you can probably tell =P Thanks for the review ^^ Glad you liked the Fax.**

**lilly: x3 Thats an awesome tune.**

**Broken Heart: Aww, thank you for the effort =3 and for reviewing as well ^^ I'm glad yu like it enough to want to read it that bad.**

**Iggy4ever: One chappie, enjoy lol =P No real Fax though.**

**Beneath: You may shoot me for being lazy with names...lol...thanks for reviweing ^^ glad to see you liked it =3**

**Eyeliner: Cliche is fun sometimes. Lol. =3

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**Part 14**

Max pushed her key in he door and clicked the lock open very slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was 1.30am of Sunday morning, and she'd just got back from her date with Fang.

She was surprised the doctors let her stay so long after visiting hours, but she wasn't complaining.

"So beautiful," he'd muttered as he closed his eyes again, tilting his head up into his pillow as his hand absently stroked her cheek. Max hadn't been able to think of anything to say. She just sat there, watching his smile slowly droop along with his hand as he fell into dreamland.

He'd looked so peaceful, fast asleep. For the first time in days he wasn't looking at her in pain, or hiding something from her. His face was truly relaxed and expressionless as he slept soundly in front of her.

Max had stood and gently placed his hand back on the bed, pulling his sheets up to his neck before slowly stroking a hand along his cheek and jaw. It was relaxed and easy, resting. She'd smiled softly and wiped a few strands of his bangs away from his eyes, bending down and kissing him once on the forehead.

She couldn't help it, she'd lingered, her lips just against his forehead as her hand lightly stroked his cheek. A few seconds later she finally pulled away again, taking her hand from his face as she gazed over his one more time.

She wanted to help him look that serene every day. She wanted to be able to, but he was still holding back on her. Everything didn't quite add up. He didn't like his home life, he lied about the slash on his face, probably about the scar as well. She wasn't sure how, but she was going to have to work to get the truth out of him.

"Sweet dreams Fang," she'd whispered as she lent down to pick up her bags, letting a small smile curve her lips as he readjusted his cheek against the pillow and grasped his blankets in his sleep. Then she'd turned and waked away, starting the hour long trek home.

Carefully, she pushed the door shut with a gently click before flopping her bag and the bag of dirty plastic plates by the door, deciding she could do them with the washing up tomorrow. That was the day Fang was being picked up to go home, so she'd promised to keep away that day and visit him at home on Monday instead.

The light was still on in the living room. Curiously, she tiptoed to the doorway and peeked in.

On the sofa was Gasman and Angel, curled up on opposite ends of the chair, fast asleep. Max smiled slightly as she watched their little chests rise and fall rhythmically. They'd tried to wait up for her, probably Dad's idea. Looks like they couldn't log the hours yet.

Max slipped out of the room and opened the airing cupboard in a single, long swoop, well accustomed to the fact that if you tried to open it slowly it squeaked like buggary. She relieved the cupboard of its spare blanket and pushed the door shut almost soundlessly again, tiptoeing back to the living room. Once there, she spread the blanket out over her two youngest siblings, tucking he corners over then under their arms and giving them both a quick kiss on the cheek.

She dimmed the lights as she padded out of the room, stifling a yawn as she headed to the kitchen. The dishes were already done, it seemed. Bless them. She got a quick glug of water and softly stepped up the stairs to bed, flopping into dreamland fully dressed seconds after her head hit the pillow.

Good thing she didn't need an alarm for Sundays. She was pretty sure she'd sleep through an earthquake.

*~*~*~*

Fang found it stupid that a hospital's main entrance would only have stairs to its main doors. The number of people that probably had to come to this place in wheelchairs or on crutches that had to go round to the back of the building to get in, then trudge all the way to the main reception, must be huge.

"We can get the taxi to drive round the back." He was looking down at the steps Nudge was already half way down, his mother worrying her behind off next to him as he eyed the stairs carefully. He was pretty sure he could take them with crutches. He'd have to get up and down the stairs at home anyway, it would be good practice.

He didn't reply as he planted his supports on the first step down and quickly lifted his legs down, careful to keep his damaged leg from touching the step. He and his mother were still not communicating properly, single word answers or one sided discussions with her saying all the words incredibly common between them.

He hadn't forgiven her for taking his step father's side so easily, especially with what he did to her. He could spot the make up covering her black eye a mile away, because he knew what he was looking for. And he knew there was likely to be one or two places with slightly thicker coverage than others.

Caking it on gave away bruises. Least, to him it did.

He balanced on his leg as he moved the crutches down to the next step, carefully manoeuvring his legs down again. He noted his mother's slow footsteps next to him, always on the same step as him. He could feel her worried eyes boring into the side of his head as he planted the supports on the next step down.

He wouldn't let himself become reliant on anyone, definitely not someone who trusted that bastard over her own flesh and blood. By the forth step his arms were beginning to ache from the stopping and starting, from the elevation changes, for having to be used after three days of rest.

"Stop and rest." His mother's hand took a hold of the top of his arm when he went to take the fifth step, noting his arms had started shaking when he raised them. He was still tired, still aching as he forced himself to use his muscles. His stomach still did small flips and flutters if he moved to quickly, but he was certainly on the mend.

He wished it was Max holding his arm, not his mother. If it was, he might have listened.

He shook her arm away and continued down, focusing on Nudge at the bottom, holding the slightly sagging balloon she'd brought him the day before as she waited patiently by the taxi. The little bugger had probably already started the meter, milking them for every cent they were worth.

He placed the crutches on the pavement and swung his legs down as energetically as he could manage, finally letting himself stop for a few seconds. It was tiring, using your arms in place of your legs, especially on an already rocked framework.

"You alright, Nick?" He caught Nudge's gaze, her eyes furrowed slightly in worry as she clutched at the balloon, not letting it escape into the gentle breeze. She was the one who'd had the forethought to bring in a set of clothes for him. She was the one to bother to visit him and wish him well. She'd brought the card that was held by her side in her other hand.

He found it sad. The only one in his house who cared wasn't even related to him.

He let a half smile touch his lips as he nodded once, trying to reassure her his shaky movements were not representative of how he was feeling. In truth, they were, but she didn't need to be worrying about him. Her Dad probably wouldn't take kindly to him worrying his only daughter, and Fang had already decided he could do without any extra bruises for the time being.

When he got to the open car door, Nudge took his crutches as he eased himself into the front seat. It was a case of 'fall on his arse and spin his legs in'. Getting out again wouldn't be as easy and probably more painful, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

As the car pulled away from the main entrance, Fang flopped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. As bad as he felt about it, he wished he was with Max in this car, going back to her house to stay. Somehow, he felt more at home around her family than his own.

*~*~*~*

"Max! Phone!" Gasman's voice drowned out the phone's incessant ringing as Max rocketed down the stairs to pick it up, almost falling over Angel as she played with a doll on the bottom step. She picked it up on the seventh ring, taking a deep breathe before finally putting the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" She silently cursed at the slight breathlessness in her voice. She knew who this was before they even answered her. Her nerves were jumping about like crazy as Angel watched her curiously, bright blue eyes innocent and focused.

"Miss Martinez?" The voice sounded like it belonged to an old head teacher, sharp and pointed. Max flinched as the voice scratched at her eardrum, pulling the receiver a little further away from her head.

"Speaking. Can I help?"

"This is Mrs. Rosemary of the young carer's office." Yup, bulls eye on the guessing. "I'm calling to discuss the claims you're making, as well as to arrange an assessment visit to your house before we confirm the amount of money you may receive."

"Yeah, I got the letter…" Max balanced the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she rummaged in the stack of papers next to the phone, digging through bill payment announcements and things until she found the paper she was looking for. "Got it here. Said it would be a spot check some time in a two week period?"

"That's correct. We'd like to set that spot check from tomorrow to two weeks today, if that is alright with you."

Waiting a few seconds, Max dropped the letter back onto the pile and leafed through the papers again, finally finding a little diary under the whole lot and flicking through the pages. She stopped at the beginning of the following week and slid a few pages over, running her finger down them.

"Next week will be really disrupted." It wasn't a lie. On top of visiting Fang every day at his house and being excluded from school, her dad had a doctor's appointment and the youngsters had the dentist. "Could we do the two weeks after that one? We've got appointments and stuff next week."

"Of course, Maxine." She cringed as her full name was used. Damn application forms needing her full name rather than the shortened version. She'd even had to give her middle names, which had Gazzy sniggering no end since he knew she hated them.

Maxine Valerie-Ann Martinez. What a mouthful.

"That's all booked in for you." Max smiled slightly into the receiver. "A day will be picked randomly, then an officer assigned to visit your home that day from when you wake up to go to bed. May we ask what time you rise, Miss?"

"5am." she answered, to which she was rewarded by the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Seconds turned into minutes as Max gazed sideways at Angel, noting her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Max shrugged her shoulders once, soon turning Angel's frown into a bright smile as she tilted her head sideways and crossed her eyes, her tongue sticking out slightly between her teeth.

"Then an operative will be with you at 5.10am one of those days, Miss. We wish you good luck."

"Thank you." Max's eyes were still crossed as she answered, Angel giggling her head off behind her hand as she tried to stay quiet. "It'll be our pleasure. Thank you so much."

*~*~*~*

Fang had been right. It hurt like hell to try and get out of the car. In the end Nudge had grabbed one of his arms and hauled him onto his good leg, catching him before he had to put the other one down and supporting him until his mum got the crutches out of the back of the car. Slipping his arms over the tops and gripping the cold metal, a small shudder spread through him as he looked up at the house.

Their house was bigger than Max's, which was stupid considering there were more of her family than of his. It had a spacious yard that went around the whole house and stretched back a way as well, the house itself set dead in the centre of the property. Their driveway was long but straight, the gravel probably the cheapest covering for the way to the house his step dad could find.

Probably because he spent his money on booze and gambling.

Finally back on his own foot, Fang took no time in pulling himself towards the house. He may not like his life here, but it was better catered and slightly more interactive than a hospital room. Both aspects he missed dearly in the stretches of time he was alone in his hospital cubicle.

He was focusing on the floor as he advanced on his house, making sure the crutches were well placed in the loose gravel before daring to lift his legs forwards. He almost slipped once, but caught himself at the last second by moving his weight to the other crutch while he moved the other to a more stable place. Thank God he'd only be on them for a few weeks, or he'd want to hit something with them rather than use them to walk.

He glanced up, seeing how close he was to the door, and was instantly met by Mike's cold stare from the now open doorway. Fang hung his head again as he watched the crutches sink into the gravel under his weight, until he finally reached the small paved stretch just before the front door.

It was then he glanced up through his bangs again, matching his step father's gaze stare for stare as he waited for the man to move out of the way and let him in. They held each others eyes for an easy five minutes, neither flinching as they gave each other the iciest stare they could muster.

"You prick." Fang knotted his eyebrows together as his expression transformed into a glare. "Getting yourself fucking bashed up by the local wankers. You don't know when to fucking quit your incessant and ignorant arguing and just disappear ,do you?"

Fang didn't say a word. His glare remained solid as he tightened his hands on the handles of his crutches. He was well aware that Mike would be much happier if he just disappeared, if he didn't exist. It would make ruling over his mother so much easier than it was now. She still had her son to think of, and that caused tiny rebellions in the ranks, like leaving home today to go and pick him up.

Luckily, Fang had no intention of disappearing.

"Honey…" Mike looked round Fang's slightly stopped figure to look at his wife, who was a few paces behind him having just paid the taxi driver. "Let him in, he needs to lay down…"

There was an example of the rebellion. In Mike's little twisted reality, he could keep this piece of shit of a step son waiting on his crutches outside _his_ house for as long as he liked. If the said shit didn't exist, his wife would never try and talk to him like that. To try and command him in his own house. He turned his attention back to Fang, who's glare was still firmly in place, his knuckles white as he gripped the crutches fiercely.

He wondered what it would be like to smack Mike round the race with one as he grunted and pushed himself away from the door, taking a swig from the beer in his hand as he made his way to the living room. As he took his first few steps inside, Fang hoped the guy went out to drink this evening.

It was only 3pm, which meant he'd be drunk by 7. Not something he wanted to deal with today.

He took long strides with his sticks, closing the gap between the doorway and the stairs as quickly as the crutches would allow. Then came the challenging bit. The hospital, he was going down the steps, easier than pulling is relatively light if not still bulky frame against gravity. There were also significantly less steps at the hospital. An easy twenty stood between him and the landing this time.

"Why don't you sleep on the couch?" He didn't look round at his mother as he glumly studied the stairs in front of him, trying to get up the moral to start climbing them. "I'll go up and get your duvet and pillow."

He could feel her watching him carefully, probably with that pained, worried look she wore so much these days. A pang of guilt hit Fang's stomach as he continued to ignore her. It wasn't her fault her stupid lying husband was a liying fucker. She was just trying to get her life back in order, and was sucked into this crap for the trouble.

Fang took a deep breath.

"I want to sleep in my own bed," He finally answered as he placed his crutches on the first step, turning to look at his mother with a piercingly serious look. "Since I haven't been able to for a while now. And I wont be in the way up there."

"Alright." _Man, mum's too soft nowadays…_ "I'll bring some food up soon, ok?"

He gave her a slight smile and nodded once, glad to see her smile in return before she turned away to head to the kitchen. He hadn't seen her smile properly like that in so long, it was good to see. If it made her smile, he'd try and talk to her a little more. It was sincere, not trying to hide something from him like the makeup covered her bruises.

Locking his aw more in concentration than anything else, Fang looked back up at the stairs before pulling his weight up to the first step, already wishing he'd agreed to crash on the sofa as his arms complained about the extra work out. This was going to take a while.

Hopefully, no one would need the bathroom for the next ten minutes.


	15. Porridge Related Ponderings

**Lilyflower: I wanna just hug him -w- Thanks a lot foe the review =3  
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**AlmostAGoodGirl: Hey, I didnt say _who_ would cop it :P that'll come to light muuuuch later. Thanks for the review, please keep R&Ring =3 it makes me happeh.**

**Iggy4Ever: One chappy for you, thanks for reviewing =3 And she says '....uh....hey? x3' x3**

**kishimat: thank you ^^ its my first AU, so thats a huge compliment. I hope you keep reading and reviewing =3**

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Hmmm... *stabs writers block with a big stick with a nail in the end* Heres an update for you. Sorry for the delay .-. My thinking bunnies arent working properly recently, then only wanted to write The Road to Heaven... Dont really like how I ended this one, but it could be worse lol.**

**Well. This chapter keeps appearing and disappearing, so I've deleted and reposted it. Sorry to Iggy4ever, who already reviewed .-. but its beginning to annoy me that it keeps doing a vanishing act. Thank you for the review though ^^ I'm glad it tickled you a little.****  


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**Part 15**

Porridge.

Fang honestly couldn't understand what some people found so nice about the stuff. It was lumpy, it tasted like shit and it smelled like feet. Not to mention the fact it looked like cement and was a total arse to get off once the stuff dried out.

For some reason, it was also something people seemed to think made you instantly better when you weren't well. His mum seemed to have the same reasoning. He lifted a spoonful of the goopy stuff out of the bowl and tilted it, letting it squash back into the bowl with the rest of it before dropping the spoon again and sighing softly.

_Damn healthy eating…_ His mum was following her usual pattern: If you were ill, she pumped you full of vegetables, fruits, chicken broths, everything that was supposed to make you better or boost your immune system. He'd smelt steak wafting up the stairs the night before, but found himself with chicken and salad.

Not even a dressing.

Least up here he was well out of the way. He felt kind of bad that meant he wouldn't be able to protect his mother, but there wasn't much he'd be able to do from the couch except antagonise and take blows anyway. He could do without added bruises and cuts in his present state.

He leant his head back into the extra pillows his mum had propped him up on this morning, his arms resting either side of the lap tray the porridge and a glass of juice were on. He was glad he could sit up, at least. The ceiling was pretty dull to stare at, since he'd done so for about five hours yesterday afternoon.

Sighing, he grabbed the spoon and pulled it back out of the porridge, giving the sickly looking substance a querying look before shoving it in his mouth and chewing unnecessarily. He couldn't help the small smile spreading across his face as he taste invaded his mouth, filling every nook and cranny.

He could taste honey and sugar, and the tiniest hint of cocoa hidden beneath the surface of the cement looking mixture. That would be his mum trying to sugar coat the healthy eating thing, and it was damn well working for him right now.

The doorbell went just as Fang was scraping the sides of the bowl, wishing there was actually more to eat in there. He looked up at his own door as if he could see who'd rung the front door, but the plain white thing gave him no clues as to whether it was Max or someone else.

Stupid non-psychic door.

He leant sideways and stretched across the empty side of his double bed to place the bowl on his bedside table, slumping slightly in his pillows and closing his eyes as he withdrew his hand. He'd find out soon enough, so he might as well take it easy.

_Probably should have told her Max was coming though…_

*~*~*~*

Max tried not to shift awkwardly under Fang's mother's gaze. She'd opened the door a few seconds ago but had stopped to take her in, a slightly confused look on her face as her eyes scrolled up from Max's dolly shoes and skirt to her shirt and jacket, then finally her eyes.

This was not the outfit Max had planned to wear today. In fact, she hadn't planned an outfit, since she never did. The problem was her alarm clock died this morning, so she didn't get up at 5am as per usual.

Angel had woken her up ten minutes before everyone was due to leave.

Bless her heart shed tried to do all the things she thought Max did in the morning. She set the cereal and milk up like it was always positioned, and put all the dishes in the sink with Iggy's help. Problem was she didn't know about all the other stuff Max did in the morning, which she now only had ten minutes to do.

Max had jumped in the shower, already deciding she was going to have to do all that stuff that evening considering she was supposed to be visiting Fang after dropping off the kids. By the time she'd gotten out of the shower and dried her hair to a less than dripping wet state, Max had a total of two minutes to get the kids out the door.

Angel had laid some clothes out on her bed, which Max threw on simply because she didn't have time to choose anything else. Seconds later she was downstairs and making sure all the kids had brushed their teeth, their hair and gotten all their school stuff together.

A quick washing machine dive for Gazzy's PE kit and they were off. Only five minutes late.

Max smiled slightly awkwardly and played with her handbag strap. She'd had these clothes for a school non uniform day last year. Everyone had to dress up as something. Loads of people went as characters from movies or vampires, there was even a womble.

Max went as a _girl._ Huuge inside joke.

The skirt was red and black and cut just above her knees, with matching socks reaching just below her knees and down into plain black dolly shoes with no heel. Her shirt was red and sleeveless, thick straps across her shoulders holding it up. She wore Fang's plain black jacket over the whole thing, the sleeves rolled up so she could sill use her hands.

"…is that Nick's jacket..?"

_Finally, she speaks…_ "Uh…yeah…he leant it to me when we were down the park…I'm Max." She hoped her smile was actually coming across friendly and not like she was constipated. This was one of the most awkward situations she'd been in for a long time.

"Oh! Max who phoned us from the hospital?" A small smile found its way onto his mother's face as she opened the door a little wider, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her middle. Max noted a single patch of her face that had makeup on it, just a small circle of it under her eye.

Why did she put make up on just a tiny part of her face?

"Yeah, that's me." Max returned the smile a little easier, her face looking less falsified as she clasped her hands behind her. "F- Nick said I could come round and visit while he was bedridden, since I'm not at school today."

"Oh..?"

"I…uh…had a misunderstanding with one of the people that attacked Nick…" She motioned briefly to her slightly yellow eye, a slightly sheepish smile on her face as Fang's another covered her mouth with a hand.

"You got into a _fight..?_" She sounded slightly horrified at the idea, but Max simply shrugged as she played with her fingers nervously behind her back. _Crap, I said too much…_ It probably wasn't the best impression you could give your boyfriend's mother the first time you met her.

_Wait…he's _not_ my boyfriend…shitty brain…_ "Uh…yeah…for, you know…hurting Nick…"

His mother seemed to blink a few times, taking in the idea that this sweet looking girl could get herself into a fight as payback for someone hurting her son, before stepping aside and opening the door a little wider. "You'd better come in, Max."

"Thanks…uh….Nick's Mum." Max smiled slightly, this time not a fake, before taking a few steps inside and bringing her hands back round to hold her bag strap. His mum chuckled behind her before closing the door and taking a few steps to be next to her.

"Call me Nancy." Max looked round and was greeted with a small half smile, so similar to Fang's she even had the same creases on the side of her mouth. It was contagious, and Max couldn't help but smile back. Her nervousness faded slightly, her muscles un-tensing.

Nancy seemed nice. So what was Nick hiding?

"He's up the stairs, second door on the left." Nancy motioned to the staircase in front of them as she spoke, holding a hand out. "Would you like to leave you jackt and bag down here? …well, Nick's Jacket." Her smile widened as she said the last few words, like a knowing look. Max repressed the urge to raise an eyebrow and simply nodded, removing her bag and the jacket and handing them to her.

"Thank you for letting me come in." Max stated as she watched Nancy take her bag and jacket over to a coat rack and hang hem up. "I'm sorry he didn't tell you I was coming, hope I'm not intruding or anything…"

"Its fine dear," she didn't look round as she hung up the jacket, so Max couldn't see the woman's smile drop very slightly as she continued. "Nick and I don't talk much anymore…"

Max blinked and had to bite her lip. Too many questions were trying to force their way out, ones she didn't want to ask directly. Why weren't she and Nick taking any more? Had she done something? Had _he _done something? Or was it something entirely different?

Nancy turned on the spot, a huge smile across her face again as if it had never left. "I'm making chilli for lunch, if you're staying that long. I'll bring some up to you both when it's done, ok?"

Max nodded once and smiled back again, now aware her smile had unintentionally dropped while she'd been mulling things over. With a small wave, Max headed over to the stairs and started up them, her mind buzzing as it tried to make sense of all the new information she'd gotten from the talk with Nancy.

Something was definitely wrong here, and she was going to find out what by the end of the week.


	16. What are we?

**Wow. Writer's block is a bitch, isnt it? Here's an update, though I'm not sure about how I ended it. The humour just seems a little off -w- but it happens I guess. FAX fans, if you squee here, please dont break any windows. There is FAX, and a reasonable amount of it at that, lol.**

**Also. An apology for the number of times alerts came up for the last chapter. Fanfiction was screwing with me. Majorly .-.  
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**Iggy4ever: Hehe, thanks for all the random descriptions =P I'm glad you lied it, and thanks for the review ^^**

**OMRD: That outfit - what i would wear if i had the confidence. And it was the most Max-like get up with a skirt in it i could think of -w-. Thanks for the review, glad you liked it =3

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**Part 16**

"Your Mum thinks we're dating."

Fang tilted his head sideways to raise an eyebrow at his best friend. Her attention was still on the massive TV in front of her, her arms behind her head against the pillow his mum had brought up just minutes after Max made her first appearance.

"Huh?" he asked stupidly, to pull her attention to him rather than the TV. It was ridiculously large and wall mounted, a reflection on how much money Mike actually earned but they didn't see. The TV was there when he got here, when Fang took over the guest room, so he wasn't sure if it was bought for _him_ or if he just got lucky.

Was good to play Xbox on though. Especially with surround sound.

Max turned her head slightly and gazed at him silently, taking in the questioning expression. He was wrapped up to his mid chest in blankets and propped up against at least five pillows, a tiny piece of person under a mound of cushy things.

His mum had made him put on a shirt when she'd come up, not that Max had been complaining about the lack of material on his chest. She'd refrained from telling her she'd seen him in his boxers before, considering she didn't want to give the nice woman a heart attack, and instead bit back laughs as Nancy went off on one about getting colds and infections and literally pulled the shirt over his head for him.

Max turned back to the TV and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "She thinks, because you lent me your jacket, we're dating." She elaborated, focusing back on the cartoon they were watching even though she could feel Fang's eyes baring into her cheek.

He stared at her for a few long seconds as she fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze, sitting up slightly to smooth her skirt and fold one leg over the other before flopping back against the pillow again. She'd untied her hair when she got here, complaining that it was still wet and she didn't want it to dry funny.

Then he'd queried about the skirt, and been told about Angel being 'helpful'. Air quotes and all. He'd smiled. She was a sweet kid, Angelica. Shame she was too young to really see the big picture and all the stuff Max did behind the scenes. Then again, she was only six years old, or something stupid.

And Max was only seventeen. His smile fell when he considered that.

He didn't say it aloud, considering he was well aware she was out of her comfort zone in such a thing, but she looked good in a skirt. It wasn't sluttily short, stopping just above her knees, and flared out slightly with a thin black petticoat underneath it. It was choppy and different. Despite being a skirt, it suited her to a tee in his eyes.

That, and she had _gorgeous_ legs. He'd definitely not said that aloud.

He turned back to look at the TV silently, slipping down a little deeper into the blankets. Technically they weren't an item, after all neither of them had asked the other out directly. They'd been on a date, if pizza in a hospital conference room really counted as a date, but never really more than friends.

Another detail to remember: He'd kissed her. She'd kissed him back. Those fucking painkillers just didn't know when to stop dulling his common sense, and he'd gone and kissed her. The nurse had told him he'd called her beautiful after that, but he didn't remember doing it. He barely remembered the kiss.

What did _she_ think they were?

"Fang?" He turned his head sideways again, being greeted by Max's cheek as she played with the hem f her shirt nervously. "What…what exactly _are_ we..?" She looked up as she finished her sentence, her large chocolate eyes meeting his own as she studied his face, picking out the emotions swimming in his eyes.

_Jesus. Is she reading my fucking mind or something?_ He kept his face impassive and his jaw relaxed as he studied her back, taking in the confusion and, for some reason, apprehension, swimming in her eyes. He swore there was a tiny bit of hope amongst the uncertainty, but he could have out it there mentally rather than actually seen it.

She smiled as she studied his face, the playing with her hem lessening. She seemed to relax slightly when he smiled back, but he was slightly uneasy. No body could read him. He prided himself in having a blank exterior when it came to emotion. So why was she smiling?

Could she see past his façade?

He was mulling everything over mentally. He wanted to call her his girlfriend. She was…something else, compared to all the other girls that had chased him. Even the one girlfriend he'd had was totally different to her. She was normal to the outside world, just a normal teenager who got on with school and tried to do her best.

Yet she was _so _much more.

She was a mother. A carer. A fighter. She put her own interests aside to make sure the ones she loved didn't have to live a day of discomfort or upset. She woke up ridiculously early to keep her house running, stayed up stupidly late to make sure everything was done, missed school when one of the younger ones was sick.

She tried to protect him when Damien had ganged up on him. He could _tell_ in the way she acted she didn't want to leave, that she wanted to be there and take the blows. But he couldn't become more important to her than her family. That's why he made her leave, why he asked her to get the hell away. She needed to stay functioning for her family, and she wouldn't be useful with the shit kicked out of her.

If he became labelled her boyfriend, would he chose him over them? He could always blow off the arrangement if it seemed that way, though even when she was out with him she panicked about leaving the kids in the hands of the blind duo: The lenient father and the rambunctious adolescent.

He smiled slightly. Her father was like one of the kids, it seemed.

Then there was his stepfather to consider. Mike was _not _a friendly soul, and he didn't seem to ever come home sober any more. His drunken days used to be spaced out, now he seemed to be coming back bladdered every fucking night.

Even if he hadn't heard the guy coming home, his pain medication still being prescribed usually knocking him out by ten, his mother's face was like a calendar for the days he came home out of his mind. Every day she seemed to be gaining new patches of concealer. Maybe she thought he wouldn't notice, but he felt sick every time another appeared.

Max frowned. Fang had gone off on a little though tangent, so it seemed. But that wasn't why she was frowning. He'd smiled slightly as he gazed absently at the wall behind her, but then the smile had dropped to a glare. His fist had closed around the blankets on his lap.

He wasn't just hiding something. He was hiding something _big._

"Fang?" He blinked a couple of times and set his face impassive again, finally meeting Max's eyes once more. Worry now floated in them along with everything else, and he became aware of her hand on his on his lap, stroking the back of his tightly clenched fist very gently.

Fucking pain meds.

He looked back at the television and unclenched his fist, flexing the fingers absently while Max continued to look worriedly at his cheek. She withdrew her hand and glanced back at the TV. It had changed to Tom and Jerry, who were wearing cowboy hats while Tom tried to play a nice song to a pretty white cat sat next to him. Jerry was annoyed because he'd been forgotten for a girl and was trying to sabotage the guitar, but it didn't seem to be working.

"Max..?" she turned back to look at Fang. His bangs were coving his eyes as he stayed focused on the TV, his hand now relaxed and just resting on his lap as it had been before his little thought trip. He watched Jerry cut a string on Tom's guitar and get flicked away into a bale of hay by it before turning to her, his eyes smouldering with emotions.

His hand came off of his lap and reached for hers, taking it palm down and lightly stroking the back as she had done to him. She looked down at it, turning her hand over to grasp his and slowly stroke the back with her thumb. She smiled slightly when Fang mimicked her, her eyes still averted from his gaze as she felt him fidget very slightly on the bed.

She looked up straight away as he rolled on his side, his eyes creasing very slightly as he hid the flinch from rolling onto his hurt thigh. She opened her mouth to protest, moving to pull her hand away and press him back down to the mattress, but he held it firmly to the bed as he shifted closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers as his other hand came up to her cheek.

She looked down as it did, watching his fingers until they touched her skin, before gazing up at him again. His eyes were piercingly intense, an emotion she shouldn't quite place burning in them as he leant closer and closer.

When he stopped inches from her, she was sure she couldn't breathe.

"You're beautiful." he whispered as his thumb lightly stroked her cheek, a small smirk touching his lips as she blushed a light crimson. Her mouth was slightly open in surprise, despite the fact he'd told her that before. She couldn't think what to say, to do, so she just sat there and stared at him like a goldfish as he smiled at her.

Then he leant in and pressed his lips to hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the taste of his lips invaded her system, blanking everything else to meaningless distraction. She gently pulled on his lower lip with her own and felt him smile against her lips, tilting his head and softly pulling on her top lip in response.

The hand on her face held her cheek like it was made of glass, barely there as he dared slip his tongue between her slightly parted lips. He felt her jolt in surprise, not that he didn't expect it, and half opened his eyes to meet hers. She was a deep crimson by now, her cheeks flushed beyond recognition as her eyes staring right into his. She was well out of her comfort zone, well out of happy hand holding and smiles.

She had no idea what she was doing.

He closed his eyes again as he slowly explored her mouth, his tongue playing with hers as he encouraged her to try it. She had frozen up and stiffened, though she couldn't deny the mind numbing happiness was still flowing strongly through her system as he licked along her teeth.

He pulled away to breathe, his hand still delicately holding her cheek as he studied her face. Her eyes were still closed, her cheeks a bright pink as she took in some much needed breath herself. Fang frowned slightly as he dropped his hand back to the bed, mulling over her non-responsiveness.

Had he gone too far?

Max's eyes half opened a few seconds later, her mouth finally closing as she met Fang's gaze. She wasn't sure _what_ to say to him, or even how to feel. She'd known the guy for just over a week, and he'd just stuck his tongue down her throat.

She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. Instead she dropped her head to look at their clasped hands on the bed, remaining silent as Fang's eyes tried to bore a hole in her cheek. What should she say in a situation like that? He'd just French kissed her, and she'd damn well liked it.

Yet she hadn't responded. _Fuck._

"I…I'm sorry Max. I shouldn't…I didn't…I'm sorry…" She almost laughed as he stammered for the right words to say, holding her hand a little tighter as he stroked the back. He'd caught her off guard by kissing her like that, and seemed to think her stiffness and lack of response was because he'd stepped over some invisible boundary.

She looked up at him with a small smirk touching her lips, raising a hand to lightly stroke his jaw as he furrowed his eyebrows at the sudden change in her expression. Her eyes went from his lips to his hair as she brushed his bangs from his eyes, then back to his eyes again as her thumb traced the line of his jaw. His eyebrows were still furrowed in question, which his lips opened to voice.

But he didn't get a chance. Max pressed her lips to his before he uttered a syllable.

His eyes flitted shut as her tongue found its way into his already open mouth, caressing his own tongue as she slipped her arm around his neck. He brought an arm around her to hold her mid back, his other hand keeping him balanced as he lightly stroked the back of hers on the bed.

She smiled against his lips as an almost inaudible groan escaped his throat, tilting her head to deepen the kiss and run her tongue along his teeth. The hand against her back spread its fingers and held her a little closer, the other closing around hers as his brain muddled up in fuzzy pleasure.

So fuzzed over, neither of them heard his mother walking up the stairs carrying lunch. She pushed his door open very slightly with her back, the tray taking up both of her hands as she tried to manoeuvre between the door and its frame.

She froze when she saw them on the bed, lips pressed together, before making a hasty retreat.

Nancy blinked blankly at the wall opposite Nick's room, not sure how to really react to her son kissing a girl in his room. It was normal for teenagers to kiss, right? And at least that's _all_ they were doing, though kissing could lead places…

She placed the tray on the floor outside his door and pulled it back up again, so there was barely a gap between the door and its frame. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before tapping on his door with the back of her knuckles.

Both teens sprang apart as the knock sounded through Fang's room, their hearts jumping at the idea of his mum catching them playing tonsil tennis in his room. They shared a quick, blush filled glance before both pairs of eyes were pulled to the door, Nancy's voice flitting through the gap.

"I'll leave your lunches outside. Can you bring your bowls down when your done?" Max swallowed hard and tried to control her slightly heavy breathing, lack of oxygen and shock both not helping the matter. Fang's hand slipped from her back as she rolled over to look at the door.

"Ok!" It sounded slightly high pitched and squeaky, maybe nervous, but it was soon followed by footsteps on the stairs. Max flopped backwards on the bed and rubbed her eyes slowly, resisting the urge to groan.

It was _so_ obvious she'd seen them kissing. She wanted the bed to swallow her up then and there.

"…that's going to come back to bite me," Fang mumbled, his eyes still on the door. Max looked through her fingers at him, noting his jaw was set tight and the hand on the bed holding him up was curled into a loose fist. She put her arms either side of her and pulled herself into a slightly upright position against the headboard, furrowing her eyebrows.

"She'll yell at you for it later?" Max queried, pulling his attention from the door and to her face. She looked confused, maybe slightly annoyed about something he couldn't place, but he held her eyes for a few more seconds before looking at the TV distractedly.

"She'll tell Mike. She tells him everything." Max pulled her brows together as she studied his cheek. His jaw was set tighter, the venom in the emphasis clearly evident from his usual calm monotone as he glared at the cartoon still playing on the television, yet he'd said it like it wasn't a significant thing.

She wasn't going to need the whole week to figure this out after all.

_Found the raw subject…_ Max thought to herself as she looked from the cartoon to Fang and back again, waiting for him to say something, or even just move a muscle, but he didn't. She swore he didn't even blink for the next few minutes as he stared blankly at the cartoon, obviously lost in his own thoughts and not paying attention to it.

"What would Mike do..?"

He'd been waiting for it. That question, what Mike would do when his Mum spilled the beans. He had _no_ idea how Mike would react. He was way too much of a loose cannon to predict, especially if she told him when he was drunk.

He flinched inwardly as he remembered the blow to his face just for staying out late. He didn't like anyone but Nadia having friends outside of the house, especially if they were leading them to distraction, like staying out until the middle of the night. Though Nadia as rarely home, was always staying round a friend's house.

Fang didn't blame her.

He finally pulled his eyes away from Tom and Jerry, just as the mouse was about to hit Tom with a spatula. Max was still watching him closely, her soft, slightly worried looking eyes catching his own piercing stare for a long minute, until he looked away again.

"Nothing." He lied, rolling onto his back with a soft groan and pulling himself slightly upright against the pillows. "Lunch is getting cold."

Max stared a hole in the side of his face for a few long seconds, trying to will him with her brain to look at her and spill the beans. She wished she was a mind reader as she pulled herself from the bed and padded in her socks over to the door, bending over to pick up the tray.

It had all clicked in those few seconds. Fang's scars and cuts he claimed were from his last school, the way he seemed to have complete control over what his mother did. The random makeup blotch on Nancy's face obviously hiding something, why he was reluctant to let he come round at all, let alone all day for the next week.

His step dad was violent. _That's _what he'd been hiding.

"Max..?" She straightened up and turned about to walk back to the bed, but frowned. Fang was now staring at the ceiling, a slight blush on his cheeks as a hand covered his eyes. She walked over slowly and placed the tray on the mattress, perching on the edge of the bed and taking his hand away from his eyes.

"You ok?" she asked gently, pulling his attention back to her. His eyes caught hers, the blush still tinting his cheeks as she lightly stroked over them. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. She pressed a hand to his head, but his temperature seemed to be normal.

"Yeah…just…" her wandering eyes fell back on his as he tried to find the right words, the red in his cheeks flaring up again as he looked back up at the ceiling. She furrowed her eyebrows and took her hand from his head, placing both of them in her lap as she waited for him to finish. He still refused to look at her as he finally found his voice again:

"Just…when you bend in a skirt…bend your _knees…"_


	17. Simple Misunderstandings

***blink* My fingers got carried away and wrote in an extra chapter *points down* I don't ask, i just do what they tell me to x3** ** This one is veeery violent, so you have been warned.**

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**Iggy4ever: Next one for yoo x3 thanks for the comment.**

**New Flock Member: Yeah. As far as i know Fang isnt a perv -w-**

**happyasusual: Your name is familiar x3 glad you like it, do keep reading and reviewing =3**

**silent broken heart: glad you liked it ^^ silly computer...

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**Part 17**

He knew it was coming, and yet Fang couldn't help the flinching at his step father's tone from downstairs. He was yelling and screaming at his mother, who's high, harsh cries tried to get through his alcohol fuelled insanity with no luck whatsoever.

He was really drunk.

Normally, he would hide his head in a pillow and zone them out, hoping to God he wouldn't wake up to see another makeup patch on his mothers face, but this time his eyes remained glued to the ceiling as he listened intently, catching every word, each one sending a wave of nausea through his stomach.

The words 'Nick', 'Max', 'girl' and 'kissing' seemed to be repeated a lot in the next twenty minutes, through all of which Mike seemed to be yo-yoing between screaming his voice box out and murmuring so quietly Fang couldn't pick out a word he was saying.

Then his angry voice brought new words into the discussion. 'Whore', 'slut', 'sex'. Fang cringed at the plain white ceiling above him before closing his eyes tight, dragging his hands slowly down his finally un-bruised face.

He _knew _it would remain that way much longer.

"Fuck," he muttered into his hands, hearing his Mum try and change his mind as he went to storm up the stairs. His eyes sprang open and he turned his head to look at the door when a large bang sounded, like a door being slammed, followed by soft crying against the angry yelling of his step father. Another loud bang, her crying becoming more hysterical just before another loud bang.

His breathing slightly heavy, eyes wide, Fang didn't take his eyes off of the door. Just his mother's whimpering pierced the silence for what seemed like hours, fairly loud whimpers if he could hear them all the way upstairs through a closed door.

Then he heard it. The noise he was waiting for: Feet on stairs.

He couldn't take his eyes off the door, the desire to close his eyes and wish himself _anywhere_ else in the world overridden by the fear of not seeing him coming at him, being unable to defend himself. He hauled himself up into a slightly upright position without taking his eyes from the last wooden barrier between him and Mike, already knowing what was coming.

The door was flung open so hard it smacked into the wall behind it with a loud bang, the door handle leaving a slight dent in the wall as it recoiled from the plaster with its last bit of energy. Not that Fang was paying attention to the décor. His eyes were fixed and desperately trying to hide the fear running through his brain as he looked on a severely pissed Mike.

An intoxicated, severely pissed Mike. With half a glass bottle in his hand.

He quickly considered rolling out of bed and trying to make a run for it out of his window, but there wasn't even a reason to try. He wouldn't get far on his leg before Mike caught up with him, and then he'd be angrier. On top of that, it made him look like he'd actually done something wrong, which was fucking obvious to Fang he hadn't.

So instead he did what he always did. He locked everything away, anything that could really show how he was feeling, and stiffened his jaw. His eyes narrowed into a glower as Mike approached his bed, the devil in his eyes as he swung his arms, jagged glass and all, about haphazardly.

"You little piece'o shit." He spat as he got loser, pointing at Fang with the sharp glass. "Ungrateful little shit! You live in my 'ouse! You eat my food! Then you bring 'ome the first girl you meet at that useless fucking excuse for a school an' use my 'ouse as a brothel!"

It was hard, repressing the shudder that spread through his body with sharp glass that close to your face, but Fang just about managed it. He glanced up from the glass to Mike's twisted face, his body slightly swaying as he threatened his step son with the remains of his last drink.

Fang kept his jaw tight as he found his voice.

"She visited me because I wasn't at school." He stated as calmly as he could, hoping the slight shake in his voice was imagined rather than real. "She was worri-"

A fist collided with his face, and the top half of Fang's body swung round with the momentum. He caught himself with a hand on the side of the bed, his other folding next to his pillows as he cringed. Iron tasting blood pooled in his mouth as he tried to clear the slight fuzziness from his head. He felt like he was going to vomit and swallowed, feeling the warm liquid in his mouth trickle down his throat, and tried not to retch.

A strong hand pushed on the back of his neck, pushing the other side of his face into his pillow as Fang braced the arm holding the side of the mattress, trying to stay slightly upright. Mike tightened his grip slightly, a couple of finger ghosting over Fang's windpipe as he pulled himself onto the empty side of the bed.

Just to be safe, he pressed a knee into the small of the boy's back.

Fang's back stiffened as he tried in vain to push the man off of him, the fear that he'd been trying to keep locked away now freely playing across his face and eyes. Luckily Mike wouldn't be able to see it, being behind him, but Fang couldn't help it. He couldn't run, he could barely move. All he could do was lie there and take whatever was coming to him.

He _really_ regretted taking is shirt back off as cool glass grazed his skin.

Mike's breath tickled his ear as he breathed ragged and heavy, the stale smell of alcohol and tobacco lingering in the air and finding its way into Fang's nostrils as he growled into the boy's ear. "Your _mother_ saw you, Nick. Don't. Fucking. _Lie to me!_"

Fire spread through Fang's left shoulder as the jagged glass connected with skin, he clenched his eyes shut and grasped a ball of sheets in the hand stuck folded by his head, his breathing coming fast and heavy as he tried not to give Mike the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. He tried to glance over his shoulder, through his bangs, but the hand on his neck simply squeezed harder, limiting the oxygen going to his brain.

"She saw you and that _Max_ in here." Mike spat as he twisted the glass in his back. Fang jerked involuntarily as a small pained cry finally escaped his lips, now burying his head in his sheets as his left arm collapsed from the pain. The knee in the small of his back pressed harder as Mike leant over his incapacitated step son, the glass pressing further into his back under Mike's weight.

A few long seconds of silence followed, the heavily scented air sweeping past Fang's left ear from Mike's breathing and the occasional whimper in pain from the boy's lips the only things that pierced it. Time dragged as every millimeter of glass sent pain signals to Fang's head, dulling almost all of his other senses, until his stepfather finally spoke.

"If I see her in my house, I'll kill her."

Fang eyes shot wide open, his brain on hyper alert. His thought pattern was interrupted almost immediately as the glass was ripped from his skin, and Fang heard it being thrown onto his carpet as the man's knee finally stopped pressing against his back. But Fang didn't move. Not a muscle. Not until he heard Mike slam the door behind him and start down the stairs again.

He grunted as he rolled onto the right hand side of his back, reaching round with his left hand to feel the damaged area just under his shoulder blade. He could reach it easily, and soon wished he hadn't as the contact sent new waves of pain through his skull. He flinched and withdrew his now blood covered hand, placing it on the bed to haul himself into a more upright position.

Soft footsteps padded up the stairs. Careful and measured, almost invisible. Fang refused to look round as his door clicked open. He knew it would be his mother with the medical kit. He heard her try and silence a gasp at what she saw, but Fang wasn't paying attention. His arm was shaking as he held himself up, using the other to stack pillows up against the headboard before flopping his good side against them.

His left leg complained about being raised off the bed, but he couldn't position himself any other way without pressing against the wound on his back. Why did it always seem to be his fucking left side?

Silence engulfed the room as his mum stepped cautiously around the blood covered glass on the floor, perching on the side of his bed as she put the first aid box down. Fang jumped very slightly as he cool hands grazed over the wound on his back.

He bit his lip as she pulled out shard after shard of glass, just the occasional grunt giving away how painful it was.

He wanted to ask her why she felt she had to tell him. He wanted to yell at her for telling him while he was drunk. He wanted her to shout back a him, pack her bags and move them the hell away from the nightmare that had become their everyday lives.

But she 'loved' him. She wouldn't even consider it.

He didn't need to look round to know she'd have some damage for what she relayed to Mike, but he stole a look over his shoulder as she started cleaning the wound with a piece of damp cloth. Her eye was going puffy, a deep bruise forming around it as she focused on his shoulder. A few others were beginning to form on her face and a few scrapes and cuts, still unattended, added to the damage.

She looked like she'd walked into a door. Repeatedly.

Fang hung his head and let a soft cry escape his lips when the antiseptic was applied, the stinging liquid agitating the raw wounds as his mum finished cleaning the blood and glass from his back. He shuddered slightly in pain as the last of the liquid was applied, then stiffened as he felt his mum press some gauze to the wound and start wrapping some bandage around it.

His face was blank as he gazed out of his window, his silent façade hiding the emotional turmoil taking place under his skin. He bottled up all of the hatred, all of the drive for revenge, all of the questions, and buried them deep in the back of his subconscious. He didn't want to think about them, he didn't even care anymore.

He felt his mum tape the end of the bandage down and then get up and leave without saying a word, probably to treat her own wounds. Waiting a few seconds he glanced back at the now closed door, staring at it like his mum could tell that he did care, that he wasn't blanking her.

He hated himself for not knowing the words to say. He _hated_ his weakness. He hated the life he had, the family he had. His eyes fell on the bloodied glass on the floor, then the few shards now on his bedside table, that had been imbedded in his back.

One well placed slice and it could all be over.

He ignored the pain in his thigh as he lent for a blood spattered piece of glass, but stopped before his hand closed around it, his fingers still poised. A few seconds silent debate and he grudgingly pulled his hand away, pulling it into a fist and hugging it close to his chest as a few tears tried to escape his eyes.

He couldn't leave his mum alone with that monster. Even if she didn't know how much he still cared, he just _couldn't_ be so selfish. If he wasn't here to take most of the hits, she'd be like pudding by now. He closed his eyes and let a single, warm tear flow down his cheek, taking a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't hurt his mum more than she already was by topping himself.

His mind quickly fell on the one statement he couldn't lock away. No matter how hard he tried, the same words stayed at the forefront of his mind, playing with his consciousness, keeping him from focusing on trying to get some sleep, or even the pain.

"_If I see her in my house, I'll kill her."_

That statement had scared him. It had shocked his system more than having glass plunged in his back, and a hell of a lot more than the antiseptic. Max had done nothing wrong. If anything, she was a much better person than Mike could ever hope to be.

The coldness in those words sent a shudder through his spine as Mike's voice repeated over and over in his head. Fang squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the world and held his balled up fist tightly to his chest, tiny shudders occasionally shaking his shoulders as more warm tears flowed down his cheeks.

This was _exactly_ what he'd been afraid of. His fucking head had been warning him about it the whole time, but he let his heart do the talking instead. Max was now knee deep in shit and wasn't even aware of it. He had two days to think of a reason to break it off with her, or at least convince her never to come round his house again.

Max was stubborn as hell. It took her long enough to tell him what was up with her family, let alone listen to him if he didn't have a good reason to make her leave. The fact he was _also_ stubborn as hell and a hypocrite for thinking Max was never crossed his mind as he started thinking, fighting back the tears, locking away the emotion before his sadness escalated into anger.

He didn't want to break it off with Max. He really liked her. _Like_ liked her, as Nudge would put it. He hated seeing her walking away from him, wanted to hold her tight and never let her go. She'd kissed him just that afternoon, her beautiful cheeks flushing bright red when she got embarrassed…

Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was falling in love with her.

"Nick..?" He glanced up to see Nudge in the doorway, clutching something to her chest as she looked discretely around the door. Fang recognised it immediately and raised an eyebrow in question, tightening his jaw as the pain from his bad shoulder finally seeped back into his consciousness.

Nudge padded over to his bed and settled on the very edge of the mattress, going to put the A5 black book on his bedside table before noticing the glass. She paused, a small grimace on her face, before holding it out to him instead. Fang took it and opened it up, smiling slightly at the first page.

It was a sketch of the view out of the bedroom window of his old house. Wasn't very pretty, a city street with a few dog walkers and a lot of cars and windows, but he still loved that sketch. It was dated the very first day his mum had bought the book for him.

"I found it in the store room," Nudge said quietly as he flicked through the pages, old memories coming back to the front of his mind as he studied them. "I was looking for my Spanish book, since I have a test on Friday, and I found that on top of the books pile in there. It was odd though. Why was it in there? Didn't you unpack it? But its really good though…"

He flicked to the last used page in the book, the picture he'd drawn on their last day at his old house. Their old car was still in the driveway, a sofa sticking out of the back that was due to be taken to the dump by an old neighbour later that day. His mum was seated in the back of the moving lorry, her legs hanging over the edge of the vehicle and an arm raised to wipe sweat from her brow.

Not a bruise or scratch on her. As she should be.

"I thought we left it behind," he answered in a whisper, mimicking her low tone as he closed the book and lightly trailed his fingers over the cover. "Thank you, Nudge…" She smiled at him when he grinned up at her, just trailing a few fingers over his forearm before getting up from the bed.

He sat up late into the evening looking through his old sketch book, already planning to fill the rest of the pages with illustrations of things once he got a hold of a pencil. His day had been like a see-saw today, up and down an right back up again, but any negative thoughts had been swept from his mind as he reminisced about the good parts of his old life.

That, and Nudge had physically removed the glass from his room.

She put all in a plastic bag and dropping it into the bin in the kitchen, pausing at the sink to wash the blood from her hands that had gotten onto her skin taking the stuff downstairs. Nick had been too wrapped up in his own head to notice her in the doorway when he reached for the glass. She'd almost charged in then and there and taken it from his hand.

But he hadn't picked it up. Her stomach finally settled when he'd flopped back down again, and her heart broke as he cried silently to himself. She'd watched him, holding his arm to his chest, trying to keep the sniffles and shudders at bay. She couldn't stand seeing him like that.

And after what happened to her mum, she knew to remove the sharp objects _very_ quickly after episodes like that. Then dispose of them somewhere they wouldn't know where to look. Otherwise, catching them at it was pointless. Since the temptation was still there, second thoughts took a back seat.

Nudge felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it away with the back of her hand, sniffing once and composing herself before heading back up the stairs to bed.

They didn't need another suicide in the family.


	18. Justified Worryings

**Iggy4Ever: It was kinda sad, yes. Dun cry =( But thank you for the rewiew ^^**

**sparkleglitz: Thanks ^^ Glad you like it, and many thanks for the review.**

**YUHLECE-MNI: Thank you for the review =3 Hope you keep reading ^^**

**fangirl14: Nyeh. It isnt on hold, dont worry about that x3 Read below for the explaination of why it took me so long to update, but thank you so much for the review, I'm glad you like it =3

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**Hi. I'm not sure if you know me. My name's Milliekittan, and I write fanfiction...**

**Lol. Sorry, but it has been a while since I updated either of my stories, I couldn't resist. I've been preoccupied with work and sleeping while the doctor tries to figure out what is wrong with me. We now think its glandular fever, which I'm (hopefully) going to be tested for in a few days. If it is, I'll have more time to write these, if I'm not sleeping all the time. It could aslo be ME, which would result in me being here less because I have to exercise rather than rest.**

**I'm sorry for how long it took to get this one written and up. Dad also restricted my computer time, blaming the daily headaches I'm getting on my computer use. Guh. So I apologise for him, to you, for this incredibly late chapter.**

**That said, here's an update! =o Hope you enjoy.**

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**Part 18**

It had been two days since she'd seen him. Two days since Max had figured out what he as hiding, and two days since leaving his house to pick up the kids and finding herself worrying about her realisation every second of every day afterward.

Two days of worrying her arse off. And it showed.

Max was glad the inspector wasn't coming round that week. She looked a wreck: Bloodshot and dark rimmed eyes, pale skin, slight shakes from lack of sleep. Every time she closed her eyes some kind of image of Fang getting hurt would invade her consciousness, or a small voice in the back of her head would tell her she couldn't relax when he was _there._

_On the plus side, the house is really clean…_ It was three in the morning, and the cereal was already placed out on the dining table. The washing had all been done and most of it was drying, the rest of it folded on the chair in the living room to be out away later. The kitchen and bathroom were spotless, the living room neat and tidy.

Only thing not done was the vacuuming, since it would wake the others up.

Taking the last glug of her lukewarm coffee, Max placed the mug by the sparkling sink and stifled a yawn. Despite the gallons of caffeine now flowing about her system, she finally felt like she needed to get some sleep. She blinked drowsily and slipped off her slippers at the bottom of the stairs, stepping soundlessly on the wooden steps to her bedroom.

Pushing open her bedroom door, Max furrowed her eyes at the small mound in her blankets on her bed. The small lump was illuminated by the moonlight sneaking through the crack in her curtains. Then it shifted and rolled over, the tiny flash of blonde curls and a teddy bear giving Angel away.

A tiny sympathetic smile touched her lips before she went to the bedside table and reset her alarm for 6.30, then slipped round to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers. She had the double bed that used to belong to her parents, before her mother's death. Her dad hadn't wanted to sleep in it alone, so they swapped rooms.

Least that meant she got a room of her own.

The teddy bear was called Celeste. It was dressed like an Angel, a small plastic halo sticking up off its head and little felt wings on its back, some kind of fairy princess dress on. Now it was literally glued to her at all times when she was at home. She even took it to school sometimes, without Max knowing.

Angel had managed to get a woman to buy it for her ages ago, when Max had taken her to the toy shop for her birthday. The bear had been to expensive for Max to buy, and Angel had burst into tears in the middle of the store. Then a nice old lady had offered to pay the extra $30 Max didn't have, and wouldn't take no for an answer.

So Angel got the bear, as much as Max hated the charity.

Angel was still trying to get comfortable, her legs and arms stretching and curling occasionally as she tried to, when Max pulled her into her side. The girl quickly curled up against her mother figure and settled into her shoulder, the bear being held even tighter under her chin.

A hand lightly stroked through her curls as Max soothed her, her own gangly legs curling up under her tiny frame, making her feel protected and secure. She didn't need to be told why Angel was in her bed. It happened occasionally, the girl was plagued with nightmares and very vivid dreams. If they were good dreams, she'd wake up very happy and bright. If it was a bad dream she could be in tears for hours. It was a part of Angel.

Max rested her head just above Angel's emphasising the feel of being secure and safe as the little girl's breathing started to level and get lighter and lighter. Her hair still smelled of strawberries from her bath earlier that evening, soft and newly washed, flying up Max's nose as she breathed gently herself.

Soon enough her breathing was soft and rhythmic, her limbs curled and still as she got some well needed sleep. Max kissed her head and rested her cheek on the pillow, absently stroking the back of the girl's head as her brain ticked over.

Maybe she needed a psychiatrist. Another thing they couldn't afford.

Max sighed gently as she wrapped her arms around the girl's back and closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of anything and everything that could keep her awake. Considering the generally fuzzy state of her sleep deprived mind, even with the worries about Fang it was relatively easy, and soon she was dozing in and out of dreamland herself.

The last time she looked, it was 3.25am. She didn't remember falling asleep.

*~*~*~*

It was the next morning she met Fang's half sister. She opened the door instead of his mother, and Max immediately wished she had ear plugs. Not to take it the wrong way. Nudge was an incredibly friendly person, and a darling to be around, but she just talked _so_ much and _so_ fast, her sleep deprived brain was melting before they even got half way up the stairs.

It took another few minutes to get her to leave once they got outside Fang's room. Though in the five minutes or so they were taking, Max learned her Mum was dead, she was twelve years old, her favourite colour was pink, but she also liked yellow. And blue. And orange. _And _that they went to the same school, and that they both adored pizza.

Max was glad she finally left. Very friendly, but very mind melting.

She pushed open the door and paused in the doorway, gazing at the mass of person that was Fang on his bed. She frowned slightly when she noticed his back was to her. His left thigh was injured, he should be laying on his back.

She had to bite back a gasp when her eyes noticed _why_. The left hand side of his shoulder was covered in a thick layer of bandage, which she was certain wasn't there the last time she visited. They wrapped around his middle so almost the top half of his body looked mummified, stopping just above his waist.

His blanket was draped over his waist haphazardly, the top of his joggers just visible under the thin material. Maybe his mum hadn't expected her to turn up so early, considering he hadn't been forced into a shirt like last time.

According to Nudge his parents were out shopping. Max wasn't arguing.

Fang was well aware she was standing in the doorway, but he didn't look around. Instead he continued to gaze out of the window, watching the garden outside like it might suddenly start entertaining his incredibly bored and slightly depressed brain.

He was glad his step dad was out. It gave him some time to talk to Max and get her to understand why she couldn't come round again. He'd already had a chat with Nudge, asked her not to tell her Dad when she saw him and Max together. He promised if Mike ever found out, she wouldn't be incriminated by him.

She'd agreed, thankfully. He heard Max gasp and try to cover it, but didn't react in the slightest. He continued to breathe gently, ignoring the dull ache in his thigh as it complained for the millionth time that it had been raised off the bed for the best part of two days now as she stepped towards the bed.

It took all of Max's restraint not to run over and start bombarding him with questions. To hug and kiss him, like she did when the younger kids fell and hurt themselves. Iggy hurt himself occasionally, less often than she expected considering he was blind, and she treated him much more like an adult as she tended his cuts and bruises. _That's_ how she had treat Fang, even if it was _so _hard.

Especially when faced with injuries she helped him gain.

She perched on the edge of his bed, trying to distract herself with anything else in the room, but her eyes kept being drawn back to the bandages on his back and torso. They looked fresh and clean, probably changed this morning or the night before, hiding whatever the wound was from her sight.

"You have to leave." Max frowned and looked more at his shoulder than his back, drawn by his voice. It sounded harsher than she remembered, like he'd been crying or was severely dehydrated. She lent a little forwards but still couldn't see his expression, let alone any kind of indication of his feeling other than his tightened jaw, which was frustrating.

What she did see was the still puffy bruise just below his left eye, yellow and purple as it started healing up. What had Mike done, beaten him up for kissing her? Kind of an overreaction. Maybe Fang had tried to talk back to him and gotten a beating for that.

She forced herself to look away from him, the bandages and the bruises, and focused on the giant TV hanging on his wall. It was a flat screen, and HD, an Xbox hooked up to it and sitting on a shelf just below it. It didn't look like it had been used for a while, covered in dust and switched off.

"What did he do?" She folded her denim jacket over her arms as she tired to keep her attention away from him. Angel hadn't planned her outfit this time, and she was wearing something much more her. Black jeans hugged her hips and flared out at the knee over trainers, a fitted red and white shirt half done up over a black spaghetti top.

She looked back at him when he didn't reply, just seeming to bury his face further into his pillow and hugged the bundle of sheets in front of him to his chest. He was debating how much to tell her, what to let her in on. It was obvious she already knew where he got the injuries from, by the question she asked, but she didn't necessarily have to know how.

Or why. Stupid fucking misunderstandings.

His shoulder automatically tensed when her fingers grazed over his bare skin before straying onto the bandage. He expected her to pull away and apologise, like she always did when she caused him to tense up, but instead her hand caressed the muscles of his shoulder, rubbing his muscles until they relaxed and uncoiled.

She felt him take a deep breath, probably debating what he wanted to tell her. Max laid her coat down on the bed and shifted to pull her legs up, shimmying up against him and curling to the shape of his back. He didn't tense as her legs pressed against his through the sheets.

"Please. Fang. Tell me." Her hand stroked down the length of his upper arm, slowly and reassuringly, almost putting him back to sleep if his brain wasn't already whirring away madly. He took another shaky breath, quickly calculating how long his mum had been gone with Mike.

"You have to leave." He repeated, a little more urgency in his still slightly wobbly tone. "They'll be back soon. You cant be here."

He felt her snort into his hair as she kissed the back of his head, her hand still stroking up and down the top of his arm. "I don't give a shit what they say, Fang. He can throw me out the fucking window if he wants to, I'm not leaving until I know he wont hurt you."

Fang squeezed his eyes shut, letting a silent tear trickle down his cheek as he took another long breath. It wasn't that Max was pressed into the wound on his back, or his ever complaining thigh as it was forced to stay raised above the bed. It was Mike's drunken words echoing about his mind again, as they had been for the last two days.

How Mike would react now he was sober, Fang had no idea. He didn't really feel up to testing the guy, to see how he would react, either. He felt like shit, and everything seemed to hurt. That and he wouldn't want to risk Max for his own curiosity.

A car door slammed shut outside, and Fang lifted his head from the bed, eyes wide. They were home.

"Leave." He stated, turning a little onto his back to look over his shoulder at her. "I'll explain it all another time, but he's home." He saw Max frown, her eyes knotted together defiantly as she opened her mouth to argue, but Fang interrupted with one word.

"Please."

That one word held much more emotion than he ever let her see, let alone anyone else. He was scared, a fear which echoed on his face as the front door opened and closed. What had Mike threatened that had him looking that scared?

Max wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

"When?" She asked in a hushed whisper, pressing her lips to his forehead, lingering longer than she needed to kiss him goodbye. She felt his breathe a sigh of relief before she pulled her lips away, one of his hands coming up to stroke her cheek.

"Come round on Saturday. After 7, and wait in the garden." He whispered just as quietly, his thumb gently stroking her jaw line. "Go. There's a small fire escape ladder hanging out the window."

She didn't need to be told twice, Max was halfway down the thin rope ladder before Fang heard the first footfalls on the stairs, the indication for him to rest himself back down and go back to ignoring the pains in his thigh. He heard the bushes outside shuffle about as Max made her exit just as his door was flung open, his step father doing a spot check to make sure his little rebellious step son was still in line. Fang didn't respond, staring out of the window like he had been the before he looked around at Max.

His door slammed shut again, and Fang breathed a sigh or relief. He waited a few more second before pulling the jacket Max had forgotten from under his sheets and wrapping his arms around it, holding it tightly to his chest. It still smelled like her, strawberries and almonds wafting up his nostrils as he nuzzled into it. He curled up very slightly and pulled his sheets up higher, taking comfort in the small amount of Max he still had to hold as he drifted off to sleep.

It was the closest he'd get to cuddling Max for now. But he could dream.


	19. Daddy's Little Girl

**Ok. The emotional part of this one I had trouble writing, since I've been kind of 'off-in-my-own-world-and-detached-from-normal-people', as my dad puts it, for a few weeks or something...so, here it is, now I finally got it how I wanted it. Enjoy, and my apologies for the wait -w-**

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**sparkleglitz: Yes. Something dramatic and possibly bloody will happen to Mike. I _promise._ Sorry, but not the talk yet =P this kinda needed to be written though, this bit.**

**Yuhlece: One chapter for you, thank you for the review =3 Thanks, im kinda better, having an up day, and blood test tomorrow. Fingers crossed.**

**Iggy4ever: I'm glad you enjoyed it, and no, I'm not even a guy, let alone American and kinda old (no offense JP, I'm only 19, everyone seems old to me) sorry for the delay, here's a chappy. Thanks for reviewing ^^**

**happyasusual: I understand you, i wonder how many others did -w- Thanks for the review, here's another chappy for you.**

**XDHeAtHeRox: Thank you for the comment and the fave =3 glad you're enjoying it x3**

**J.B Nicole: That's because _I'm_ amazing -w- Nah, kidding x3 But thank you =3 glad you're enjoying it ^^**

**Iggylover2.0: Because many worse things _are_ coming, if i can bring myself to write them. I might just insinuate and drop back to a 'intense T' lol...**

**: Wow, you snuck in there just as I was finishing writing this one on word =P Thank you for the review, and sorry if it seemed dead, it isn't, I'm just weird like that, so sue me... -w- Thanks a lot, hope you keep reading and reviewing =3

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**Part 19**

Max slammed her front door behind her, dropping her bag onto the floor by the stairs with more than the necessary force before burying her head in her hands, pausing next to the staircase as she ran everything over in her head.

She'd hoped so fucking hard that she was wrong. She'd willed herself to believe anything other than the truth: That he was hurting himself, that his step sister was doing it, that he was allergic to her and spontaneously grew bruises when they touched, that the neighbour's dog pissed on his trousers and he needed her to wash them.

Most of them made no sense, some were just as bad as the real situation, but she just wanted to be _wrong._

She dragged her fingers slowly down her face, well aware of the slight shaking of her legs and hands as she did so. He didn't have to tell her what had happened for her to get it, especially from the way he responded to the stepfather coming home.

"_You have to leave."_

"_He's home."_

What was so fucking bad about them sharing a kiss on his bed? Had his mother relayed it to sound like something different, or that they'd gone further than just that? That didn't add up. Yeah, she told Mike _everything_, but she wouldn't make something up. She seemed too…nice.

A small frustrated scream escaped Max's throat as she launched a fist into the wall opposite her, leaving a very slight dent. It made her feel better, the lump of wall imprinted with her curled fist she wished could be Mike's shitty face. She shook from anger as her body slowly calmed down again, her knuckles beginning to sting and complain.

_Shit, now I have a wall to fix. _Without warning warm, silent tears tricked down her cheeks. She was so confused, so frustrated. She flexed her fingers slightly before holding her arm to her chest, sinking back against the banister and sliding onto her behind as she shook a little more.

The first person outside of her family she got close to ended up injured because of her. Her brain had been telling her to keep her distance, to keep to herself, yet this boy now knew everything there was to know about her family. And she'd got him hurt.

Why did everything always go wrong?

It was about then she noticed her Dad hadn't come running to see what the noise was about. She held her breath and listened carefully. No TV, no music. He wasn't home.

_Carol must have taken him out for a walk…_ Her dad wasn't the passive sort. If he heard a door slam followed by the sound of a fist connecting with a wall, he'd be on her asking questions faster than she could ever imagine.

She wiped the tears away on her wrist and up her arm, sniffing as she tried to keep the ridiculous tears at bay. It was as she soaked her other wrist as well that she noticed she wasn't wearing her jacket. Just fucking brilliant. She couldn't go back and get it because his parents were home, would just have to hope he noticed it and hid it before anyone came up to his room.

"Please be ok, Fang," she whispered, pressing her head back against the banister and staring up at the ceiling uselessly. "Please, God, be ok."

*~*~*~*

He may have been blind, but Max's dad _wasn't_ stupid. When he got home from his walk to find his eldest daughter actually home instead of visiting her boyfriend (who she insisted was only a 'friend') that was the first inkling something was up. After that it was the silence, softly spoken half replies and general depression that really kicked his attention into high gear.

He couldn't deny she was trying. He heard the fake enthusiasm in her voice when she tried to get the kids to go outside and play, the pretend laugh when Angel tickled her and Iggy told his jokes. She even half heartedly told them off when they tried to take her new alarm clock and turn it into a catapult.

But he had to remind her to make dinner for the kids, ask her to put the washing machine on. Everything she usually did without a second's thought he had to tell or ask her to do. As he heard her trail out of the living room after the younger kids to put them to bed, he frowned slightly, his long fingers tapping the arm of the chair.

She was reminding him of her mother, and not in a good way.

He stood as soon as he heard he footsteps on the stairs, making his way expertly around the furniture to the doorway. "Max?" He asked gently, looking at the bottom of the stairs with sightless eyes, a hand on either side of the doorframe.

"Yeah Dad?" He could envisage the fake smile on her face as she said it, sadness in her eyes. He resisted the urge to frown and instead kept his face straight.

"Can I talk to you a second?" he queried in the same gentle tone as before as he pushed himself off of the door frame and strode back into the living room. In the hall, Max took a deep, slightly shaky breath before she followed him in, brushing her fingers along his right hand on the arm of the chair to let him know she was there.

She went to sit on another chair, but he tapped the chair's arm before flopping his hand back into her lap. After a few seconds hesitation Max planted her behind on the arm and shimmied onto it a little, gently stroking the back of the hand in his lap.

"So," her Dad said, looking up where he imagined her face to be. "What have you been up to recently, Max?"

She frowned slightly, her fingers still grazing over the back of his hand as she thought about what he meant. Was he actually asking her what she did all day, or trying to be specific whilst asking a vague question?

"I mean, you were supposed to be visiting that Nick boy today," _There we go… _"But you were home less than an hour later. What happened?"

_He told me to leave but didn't say why. _"Nothing," she breathed, a lie. She saw her Dad furrow his eyebrows and knew there was no point trying to hide anything from him. He was _incredible_ at being blind.

It was really annoying.

"Come now Max," he said with in a little more authorative tone. "Nothing wouldn't make you act so depressed you forget to look after the kids."

_Fuck_._ I need to practice my fake happiness again. _She stayed silent as she gazed down at her lap, closing her eyes as she thought through what she was going to tell him. Her Dad flipped their hands over and gently stroked the back of hers but she didn't look up, didn't break her silence.

"Did you break up with him?"

Max couldn't help but laugh, just a couple of little giggles before she raised her head to look at him again. This time he looked confused as she tilted over to kiss his cheek. "Don't be daft Dad, we weren't even _dating_. But no, we're still friends…"

He let a smile turn up his lips. _If she says so._ "Then what happened?"

She stared into his blind eyes, thinking through all the excuses she could, but she couldn't bring herself to use them. He was her father. He was supposed to care, she was supposed to be able to tell him anything. Problem was, this wasn't something everyone had to tell their fathers.

Would Fang hate her for telling him?

"You have to promise," she said, pausing to look at the doorway, making sure none of the kids or Iggy were there. She looked back to see him already nodding an agreement, but waited for him to stop to continue. "Not to get involved, or call the police, or _anything_. Ok?"

Her Dad furrowed his brows again, his hand stopping to hold hers rather than stroke it. It sounded like this Nick boy had done something bad. Maybe he was on drugs, or an alcoholic. He hoped to God it wasn't that he tried to hurt Max when he slowly nodded an agreement.

He wouldn't be able to stay quiet on that one.

There was a long pause, which her Dad expected, but it was also frustrating. He couldn't see her expression, if she was just staring at him waiting for him to say something or if she was thinking things over. He assumed it was thinking and remained quiet, his face straight.

"It's Nick's step father," Max finally broke the silence, her voice slightly broken, like she was close to tears. "He's an alcoholic…and he…" She paused again, and her Dad lightly squeezed her hand, hoping his expression was comforting.

"He beats Nick," she said softly, finishing in a slightly broken whisper: "I kissed him, and got him hurt…"

Her hand was shaking slightly in his as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to contain them, but the more she tried the more that escaped and flowed over the surface. Soon she was shaking like a jelly, the occasional snuffle adding the last confirmation to her father that she was indeed crying.

He tried to soothe her, bringing up his spare and to lightly brush her cheek. His fingers met with warm tears as they tricked over her skin, her silent crying not hidden even from the blind. He could remember clearly the last time she'd cried like this. She'd been twelve years old. Angel had just been released from the hospital and it was her third week of looking after all of them.

The washing machine had broken, a railing on the stairs split in two, Iggy had fallen over so many objects he was covered in bruises and they never got to school on time. Nothing was going right.

He honestly couldn't remember what had pulled her out of her rut. Maybe it was the realisation they could all end up in care homes, that her family would be pulled apart, or even an outside source, but a few days later she was running the place like she'd been doing it all her life.

He couldn't even stop her taking a year out of school. She was in complete control.

Now, however, she was crying again, shaking in his grasp as he tried desperately to soothe her as well as he could remember to calm his children down. After Max took control he never did it, she was like a fairy god mother: Always there, always got the magic words or cure.

He did the only thing he knew: What he'd done five years before.

He slipped his hand from hers and wrapped it round her back, edging her behind onto his knee before pulling her long legs up and draping them over the other arm of the chair. He noted how much she'd grown in the last five years. Her tiny legs used to fit in his lap folded, now they overhung the couch by miles.

She didn't need any encouragement to shuffle down to his knee and bend to rest her head in his neck, curling her arms against her as his own arms went tightly around her middle. It was the first time in five years he'd actually held Max, and his perception of her changed immediately.

She wasn't a small child anymore. She was a young woman acting as a mother.

Her quiet hiccups quickly receded to nothing but wet tears and heavy breaths as he soothed her, a hand gently running through her hair as the other held her to him. After a few more minutes his leg started to go numb, and he wriggled it slightly, accidentally jogging her so she sat up straight.

"You're too big to sit on your old man's knee," he said softly, and Max couldn't help but smile at his serious face. She wiped her eyes on her arm for the second time that day before lifting his hand to her face letting him feel her smile. It put a smile on his own, slightly wrinkled face.

"You aren't _old, _just distinguished." She said, and his smile grew wider as he fidgeted his slowly numbing legs a little more, not taking his arm from around Max so she couldn't get off his lap. He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, almost poking her in the eye until Max tilted her head very slightly, so his hand went to the right place.

"Promise me something," he said as he flopped his hand into his lap, taking hers and gently stroking the back other hand. She frowned slightly as his face went serious, tilting down to look at where he was holding their hands in his lap. "It's not your fault his step dad hurts him. Even if something you did made the guy fly off the handle, its that man that caused the damage not you. Don't blame yourself for it, just be there for Nick when it happens. Ok?"

Max smiled gently, turning their hands over to stroke the back of his with her thumb. "I promise Dad."

He smiled again, looking back up at where he envisaged her face to be. "Then what do you say go make some hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, put on a funny film and stay up late? Like we used to?"

He took his hand from around his daughter and Max swung her feet from over the arm of the chair, pulling him to her feet with her by the hand she was still holding tightly. She couldn't help but smile broadly as she walked backwards, leading him unnecessarily to the kitchen as she replied:

"Sounds great, Dad."


	20. Damn Complications

**Alright, attempt number two at putting this AN in, since my laptop decided to die when I was writing the first one and I hadn't saved any of it...**

**Sorry for the huge delay waiting for an update. I've been having trouble updating any of my fics recently, including the dictionary challenge, which was supposed to be my writers block outlet. That so didn't work, did it? So...I finally got this one finished. It was a pain in the behind to get together, because of the new character I had to put into it and making her a actual personality took a few rewrites, but here we go. Chapter 20.**

**Just for you. =D**

**This may seem a little random, doing this part, but its kind of essential to making sure some other stuff pan out ok, so people bare with me on this one. Max/Fang stuff will resume either this chapter or the next, dependent on whether I decide to gloss over what the end of this chapter leads to and skip to Saturday, or actually go through that scene...**

**Happy reading =3**

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**sparkleglitz: I'm glad you liked it. Improvisation kinda works then, I guess -w- The Max and Fang talk will be up soon, I promise. And yes, Mike will get nasty shit his way eventually...but not quiiiite yet...more shit for Fang first, sorry...**

**qwaspolkmr: you screamed like a little girl? x3 I think im flattered, but I'm not entirely sure XD Glad you liked it, and you'll have to keep reading to see.**

**Iggy4ever: Being a softy is awesome. Revel in it dangit x3**

**J.B Nicole: No worries, I promise something bad happens to Mike. Just not yet, unfortunately. A lot of detail to go before it does...**

**Iggylover2.0: Next chapter for you =3**

**Yuhlece-MNI: lol, darn mums making you get off computers. But yeah, he will get the shit beaten out of him, no worries x3 And her dad is going to get a bigger part soon...he might even get a naaaaaame~**

**Tulipbook: If i told you, I'd have to kill you =P here's another update for you.**

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**Thank you all for the reviews -w- sorry for the big gap again, work and illness and going out to get out of the house been eating my time and imagination. Please keep reading and reviewing. I love to hear from you all =D

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**Part 20**

Glancing from the picture in the book to the concoction in the bowl on the side, Max frowned and lightly scratched her chin. No matter how many years she'd been cooking spam and microwave meals for, she was pretty sure she was never going to get the hang of the whole cooking from scratch thing.

The slightly pale yellow mixture in the bowl that looked more like soup was supposed to be thick and dark brown, ready to be poured into the lined tray and shoved in the oven for twenty minutes until it all set and went brownie like.

_Puke flavour brownies…_ Max sighed to herself and slammed the book shut. So much for making use of her Friday with nothing to do. She slid the book along the counter and picked up the mixing bowl, walking over to the bin and pouring it's contents into the black sack.

Time for attempt number two, Max style.

She'd dropped the dirty bowl in the sink and was searching for another when the phone rang. She dusted her flour covered hands on her already dirty jeans as she walked out into the hall and grabbed it, pressing it to her ear as she went back to the kitchen.

"Hello?"

She was forced to squash the receiver between her ear and her shoulder to pull out the larger, heavier mixing bowl from the bottom of the cupboard. She didn't use this one because of how heavy it was on its own, let alone how heave it got with a load of mixture in it, but they didn't have another light one, so it would have to do.

"Hello, my name's Megan. I'm calling from the young carer's office regarding your application for certification as well as the preliminary checks we need to carry out."

Max froze and frowned slightly at the wall in front of her. All that sounded very ominous. What if they'd decided she wasn't eligible already and were taking the kids from her? After a few seconds hesitation she took the phone from between her ear and shoulder and pressed it to her other ear, resting the other hand on the counter in front of her.

"Is there something wrong with my application?" she queried, trying to keep any kind of emotion from her voice. If they tried to take her family from her, she'd fight them tooth and nail the whole way to the fucking orphanage.

"It's nothing too serious," she refused to let herself relax and just listened. "But some details were not filled out that are relevant to your application. We'll need these before we can proceed to process your application and proceed with your preliminary checks."

"Oh," she stated, mentally hitting herself afterward for sounding stupid. "What details do you need?"

"It came to our attention that you are still at the age where you should be in education, but we have no school details filled out for you. We'll need an address and a phone number, so your visitor can contact your school and , if necessarily, visit your teachers to check your attendance and grades, among other important factors."

Leaning her behind against the counter, Max brought her free hand up to rub her face slowly. _This_ is why she didn't get into these thing, _this_ is why she didn't apply for it sooner. Not that she didn't know about it, but that it just got complicated. People who didn't know what she did were going to find out.

Her 'normal' façade was going to come crashing down.

"Unfortunately, I don't know the school's details," she lied, knowing all too well there was a date diary in her bag with the school's address, phone number and even a fax number within easy reach. "If they come on a school day, I can just take them in with me when I go to school."

She waiting in the uncomfortable silence, slightly broken by the woman's very slow, typing on the other end of the line. A few minutes later, a small 'ding' sound came floated through the phone. "All done. Thank you Miss Martinez."

"No problem. Thank you." The line went dead. "Fuck."

Forgetting about her second attempt to make brownies, Max ran up to her room to change into something less flour spattered. They wanted to speak to her school, most likely the headmistress, since she had all the records on attendance and stuff at her fingertips. Of course, her school still had no idea she cared for her family.

She slipped her keys into her pocket and shouted a goodbye to her Dad, who was watching TV in the living room, slamming the front door behind her before he could ask for details and started walking briskly towards school.

She'd rather they found out from her herself, so she had no other choice.

*~*~*~*

"You're excluded til Monday, Max. Come back then."

She was so close to exploding on his arse, but she kept her annoyance under her skin and instead flexed her fingers in and out of fists. She was trying to get a hall pass to go to the headmistress, since if she didn't have one their school security could literally pick her up and kick her off campus without even a seconds thought.

Of course, the spotty lad at the reception desk was playing hardball. Apparently, excluded students weren't allowed hall passes since 1956 when a guy came back into school after being excluded and beat the shit out of some guy who was involved in the little action that got him an exclusion in the first place.

Max had already beat the shit out of Damien. But this spotty oik couldn't understand that.

"Believe it or not, I'm _aware_ that I'm excluded til Monday, but that could be too late," she emphasised for the twenty seventh time through slightly gritted teeth. "Please. I need to talk to her today."

The boy looked her up and down for the twenty eighth time, his eyes half closed behind his nerdy specs. Maxine Martinez, the girl the whole school didn't expect to storm in and punch the lights out of another student, was _really_ fucking stubborn.

"Look, Max." She narrowed her eyes, picking up the patronising tone of his voice. "You _know_ you can't come into school when you're officially excluded, so why are you even trying? Just go home and call her, or better yet, come back on _Monday_, when you're allowed back into school, and talk to her then."

She opened her mouth, ready to spew cusses until she went blue in the face, but caught herself and shut it tightly again. The guy smirked at her and pushed his glasses back up his nose, greasy hair hanging slightly in front of his eyes. Max glared for a few seconds before pasting on a wide, incredibly fake smile, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Fuck you." She stated in the sweetest voice she could muster, then walked straight through the doors into the school.

*~*~*~*

Flicking the lock shut on the door, Max flipped round and sunk down against it, eyes closed as she let out a relieved sigh. The security of her school may be strong, but they weren't as fast as her with her skinny frame and long legs.

She flinched slightly as the door handle was turned repeatedly, the stupid officers trying to open the door again and again despite it not budging an inch. She turned and glared at the wood when someone began to barge on the heavy oak, trying to force it open.

"Maxine Martinez!" Her eyes shot up to the angry looking old woman behind the desk at the far end of the room. She had risen from her seat and slammed her hands down on the desk, a frown setting her face and drawing out the few wrinkles she did have around her eyes and mouth. Long grey wisps of hair frames her cheeks, the rest pulled back into a band behind her head

Max scowled right back as she pushed herself to her feet. This probably wasn't going to be an easy discussion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, young lady?!" The headmistress' usually soft voice was clouded in anger, her features echoing the tone of her voice. "You _know_ you aren't allowed back in school when you're excluded! If you wish to appeal you do it by pho-"

"I'm not here," Max interrupted the head teacher, pausing briefly as the glare she was receiving deepened. "To argue about my stupid exclusion. It's Friday, for fucks sake. Would be kind of pointless, don't you think?"

The woman's features did not change as Max closed the distance between the door and her desk, leaving the security guards banging against the solid oak, shouting for a spare key or for her to open up the door. She'd heard students spin crap like this before, and wasn't buying it.

"If its about that Damien lad, he's already being puni-"

"That dipshit isn't worth the hassle," Max stated as she put her hands on the back of the visitor's chair, gripping it like a life support. Usually she didn't dare swear when clashing with the headmistress, the punishments for such things usually something along the lines of whole weeks of lunchtime and after school detentions.

With her family, she couldn't afford to get one of those.

The headmistress, dubbed Mrs. Honey by the shiny plaque balanced on the edge of her desk, raised an eyebrow questioningly. She didn't have any other stereotypical thing for excluded students to try and approach her with.

"We can discuss it on Monday." she stated with a wave of her head, settling back into the seat just behind her and pulling it closer to the desk. "Now open the door and leave the premises before security do it forcefully."

Max kept her eyes glued to the woman as she went back to the paperwork on her desk, scrawling details about something or other before signing the bottom of the page. When she looked up again, she was met with Max's slightly angry face, a mixture of annoyance and pleading. It caught the old woman off guard.

"Please," Max asked softly, the anger fading to concern. "Monday might be too late, I need to talk to you about it _now._ Please just hear me o-"

The door clicked open and two burly security guards jogged past the nerdy receptionist holding a bunch of spare keys and took one of Max's arms each, cutting her short as she tried to wrench her arms back free. It was kind of pointless to even try, but she did so anyway.

She wasn't finished here.

"Please! Mrs. Honey, stop and listen to me!" Max shouted as the security guys pulled her easily out of the woman's office doorway. "I wouldn't come barging in unless it was important! Please!"

Mrs. Honey's expression switched to slight confusion as she watched a shouting Max being forcefully removed from her office, the guy with the spare set of keys standing in her doorway smirking in the direction they dragged her as her yells got fainter and fainter. A few seconds later he gave her a quick nod in acknowledgement and pulled her office door shut softly.

She continued to stare at the door in the sudden silence, unsure what to really say or do after that outburst. Sure, she and Max didn't seem to see eye to eye on a lot of things, but she'd never sworn in front of her before.

Or begged. That wasn't very Maxine like at all.

She sighed and placed the pen carefully on her desk, reaching for the phone, an hold style table top one with the receiver tied to the actual dialler. She took the whole device onto her lap and picked up the receiver, pressing it to her ear as she dialled an internal number.

Max seemed to skive off of school, she brought in obviously forged letters that her Dad still always seemed to back up for the number of days she had off 'sick'. Yet she till caught up with her work, still got reasonable grades.

_What kind of person skips school then tries to keep up with the curriculum? _The headmistress asked herself as she swayed her chair slightly. It was an odd mix, skiving and actually trying to do well. On top of that, none of her friends ever seemed to throw sickies or no shows at the same time, there was no connection to Max missing days of school and any of the other members of her little group.

Something was obviously a miss here, and the more she thought about it, the more Mrs. Honey wanted to know what it was.

*~*~*~*

Sinking down against the school wall, Max sighed and dropped her head into her hands, slowly rubbing her temples. She could feel campus security boring a hole in the side of her head as they waited for her to skedaddle, but she had no intention of doing so.

Her year were allowed outside of school at lunchtime. She could catch a student and at least get her friends out here and explain it all to them. She didn't exactly want them to find out about her family when a government official barged into her class and started interviewing them for character references or something stupid.

She had to tell them now, in case Monday was too late.

Refusing to look up at the still glaring security men, she crossed her arms over her pulled up knees and buried her head in them, already grudgingly noting she had at least three hours to wait until lunch time. This was going to be _so_ boring…

"Maxine." The soft, gentle voice was familiar. The voice of the head teacher when she _wasn't _pissed off. Max tinted her head slightly so her left eye could see over her folded arms, instantly falling on Mrs. Honey just a few feet from where she was curled against the wall.

She dropped to Max's level as the girl hid her face again, still pissed herself the woman hadn't stopped the guys manhandling her off of school property. She didn't react as a hand softly tucked the hair covering the part of her face she hadn't buried in her arms behind her ear, trying to give the woman the silent treatment.

The fence behind her rattled, and Max tilted her head again to see Mrs. Honey sitting own next to her, her legs thrown to the side and her skirt covering her legs haphazardly. She couldn't help but smile to herself at the expressions on the security guys' faces.

Guess they'd never seen her softer side.

"What were you going to tell me, Max?" she focused her eye back on the teacher resting her back against the school gate. The escaped strands of hair were swaying slightly in the breeze, a thick black coat pulled around her now she was outside. Max pulled her face from the confines of her folded arms but turned away, resting her shin on them as she stared at a piece of wall across the road.

"What does it matter?" She challenged the elderly woman bitterly. "You didn't give a shit when we were in your office, just kept telling me to come back on Monday. So why would being outside change that?"

"It doesn't," Mrs. Honey relied softly, not taking her eyes off of the teens cheek. "But I was being narrow minded. I just want to know what's wrong, Max. Why you act so…differently from the other kids."

She didn't look round, but frowned at the wall across the road. "I act differently?" she queried gently, hoping to hell she hadn't already given away what she was doing at home through trying to be _too_ normal.

"It's not that noticeable, really." She let out a slight thankful sigh at those words while Mrs. Honey continued. "Now I'm actually looking for it, it doesn't add up." She waited for Max to look around or make a comment, but the teen seemed to be happy enough watching the bird on the wall across the road.

This was awkward. For both of them.

"Your absent for a few days every other week, yet bring in notes. They look forged but when we phone home your father always backs up the fact he wrote and signed them, even though they're written in your handwriting. You miss classes when you do that, but always try and catch up, always get reasonable grades…"

Max closed her eyes as it was all rattled off. It was a bit odd, a truant teenager who's father signed notes for her all the time and who actually tried to catch up with schoolwork, always tried to do well in tests. She was glad no one had bothered to look into it before, it would have raised difficult questions.

"Why, Maxine..?" Mrs. Honey watched the student take a deep breath, her eyes still closed and her head still rested on her folded arms. "Why miss school when you want to do well?"

Max stayed silent when she opened her eyes again, letting out the deep breath in one rush as she mentally debated how to phrase the words floating about in her head. Mrs. Honey noted her face was no longer creased or angered, just flat and expressionless as she stared at the building on the other side of the road.

It was something important alright.

"This isn't the best place to discuss it, is it?" Max finally turned to look at her headmistress as she spoke, raising an eyebrow in question. Mrs. Honey reached a hand out and gently patted Max's elbow, a soft smile on her lips as she continued. "I phoned into the office for an early lunch before I came down…why don't we go into town and find somewhere to chat?"

The young girl looked at her slightly bewilderedly for a few seconds before mirroring her smile very slightly herself, her eyes finally shining again rather than looking sad or deep in thought as she said the words Mrs. Honey hoped she would.

"Ok…sounds good…"


	21. Sharing Secrets

**Alrighty. I had issues writing the next part, so I skipped over the awkward conversation to...an easier awkward conversation. Max and her friends. There's just one more bit of detail to squeeze in before they talk and another for either before or after Max and Fang talk, and then the story can unfold a little further with happy fluffiness and silly games. Forgive me for the long delay .-. Please.**

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**Sparkleglitz: You get what you wish for x3**

**Oceanluver: read and find out...some of it anyway lol**

**Iggy4ever: I'm such a cheat. It was too hard to write the teacher scene, so i...skipped it... XD but she was nice, I promise, that'll come up in the talk with Fang somewhere along the line.**

**Tulip Book: Me? Attack you while you sleep? Never =3 *hides killer banana***

**boox: thanks x3**

**Silent Broken Heart: I'd be looking for little alien antennas or something. I watch too much Dr. Who...**

**JB Nicole: Update for you**

**XDHeAtHeRox: Want more? Look down x3**

**Samantha Windz: and yet it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside...**

**Insane: x3 I hope you managed to finish it**

**White Assassin: Glad you like it, hope you keep reading =3**

**emerson: One update ^^**

**Pheonix Rain: Sorry for the long delay, I got caught up in a lot of things .-. Hope you continue to read.**

**Almost a good girl: About two chapters, Max, to that scene x3 Promise. You can eat me if it ends up more.**

**Maximum Sarah: yes ma'am x3

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*looks down the review list* holy cow that wa sa lot of reviews x3 Thanks alot guys, I hope you all continue to read despite the delay...got caught up in writers block and work and all kinds of other fudge...anyway, without further a due, the next chapter:

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**Part 21**

"Are you _serious?_" Janine squealed as she held onto Max's arm, pulling her forwards faster than she would normally walk. Max skipped slightly to catch up with her tall, blonde friend, knowing Madison would be doing the exact same thing as they strode away from school.

They didn't live near her. In fact they lived in fancier areas in the town, in the compete opposite direction. She'd seen Maddy's house just once, when she went to borrow her phone at lunch when she got a call from Dad about Gasman. It was massive, a little bigger than Fang's house and ridiculously large for just her and her mother.

Max kind of envied her.

They were walking towards her house, towards Iggy and the kids' schools as she spilled her secrets to her long time friends. They seemed to not believe her at first, double checking it was in fact not April 1st and that she wasn't trying to keep her face straight.

Then it sunk in she was serious, and they both almost fell over.

"Dead serious," she confirmed as Maddy grabbed her other arm, looking at her incredulously. "I have two brothers and one sister. Swear down." She looked calm and collected, slightly smiling, but inside her heart rate was going haywire and she was fighting to keep her breath from quickening.

She knew what was coming. Below the queasy uneasiness and slight discomfort at sharing this secret for the second time in one day, she could feel the pity and attempted understanding seeping out of every pore of her girlfriends' bodies. She was waiting for one of them to console her or try and make her feel better.

But it never really came.

"God, Max! Why didn't you ever tell us?" Madison squeaked in a girly voice, her face unbelieving as she held Max's arm firmly. "Is that why you never come to parties or out to the pictures? You have to babysit and stuff?"

Max's mouth twitched up into a slightly nervous smile. She had to have smart friends. They were getting pretty close to the mark already. She glanced down at the pavements, watching their feet walk in unison as hey made their way to the crossing. Her shoes looked worn and outdated compared to her friends, material peeling off and frayed laces. Made her feel kind of out of place, when she looked at it that way.

"Kind of…" she uttered to the floor, creasing her brow slightly as she matched her steps to Janine's, keeping to her pace. She could feel her friends sharing a confused glance over her down turned head. Mind you, Fang hadn't figured it out until he'd met her family properly.

Maybe they would too.

It was a few more minutes walk until they reached Iggy's school, at which point she made her friends stop in an exact spot close to the gates. Maddy leant against the nearby wall while Janine pulled herself onto the wall and swung her legs absently, looking about her before her eyes fell on the school's sign.

"Hey…this is a blind school…" Maddy furrowed her brows slightly and tilted her head up to look at her friend, following the girl's gaze to the school's information board. She tilted her head slightly her eyebrows still furrowed, before she looked back at Max.

"Your siblings are blind?" she queried, noting her friend's eyes were focused on the school doors. Max looked round for a few seconds before glancing back to the doors, crossing a leg over another and placing all her weight on one leg, using the wall for balance.

"Iggy is," she stated simply, itching the back of her leg with the other foot. "Gary and Angelica go to a normal school a little down the street."

Jan frowned. "That's a weird name…"

It was then the school bell sounded, and a few seconds later kids with guides or walking sticks were streaming out of the double doors as they made their way to the awaiting parents and siblings on the other side of the gate.

Maddy and Janine waited patiently for Max to take one of the kids arms and introduce them, but she didn't. She just leant against the back wall and watched the doors, a slightly in-her-own-world look plastered on her face.

Jan frowned. Why did she keep all this a secret until now?

Max had told them she'd got all this off her chest with the head teacher when they'd seen her waiting outside of school, well aware of the rumour that had been circulating since lunch that she'd been escorted off of the property by security goons after barging in to see Mrs. Honey. What Jan didn't understand was why she'd kept them in the dark for four years when it was just her family.

Was she ashamed of them?

The number of kids spilling out of the school became a small stream, which was when Max seemed to become more alert and start paying attention. Sure enough she pushed herself off the wall and a little closer to the gate as a tall, strawberry blonde haired boy stepped out of the doorway and jumped down the few steps with expert precision.

He was gripping the shoulder straps of his bag as she followed the path to the gates, slipping through them with utmost ease as he made his way directly towards where Max was always waiting. He stopped dead and waited for some kind of acknowledgement. As usual, he didn't have to wait long for a hand to trail over his.

"Hey Igs," he smiled at Max's voice, letting her take his hand and tuck it safely into her elbow. With surroundings that never changed, he could breeze through them without a guide. For the rest of the world, his life was made much easier by a leader.

That, and Max didn't want to see him squashed by a car.

"Are you _sure_ he's blind?" Iggy's smile expanded into a wide grin, turning his head to meet the voice to his right. Janine almost fell off of the wall when he looked virtually right at her, maybe a few inches off of her left cheek.

"Max has friends as _well_ as a boyfriend?" Iggy stated with mock surprise. Max rolled her eyes exasperatedly at her girl pals, who seemed to be repressing giggles as the boy went on. "Jeez, it's like I don't know you anymore!"

"Boyfriend..?" Madison cooed, taking a hold of Iggy's spare arm and mimicking how Max was holding his other one. "Max and Nick are _boyfriend_ and _girlfriend_?"

"Oh _jeez,_" Max groaned as she unhooked her arm from Iggy's leaving Madison to guide the boy as she started faster down the road, away from her brothers sarcasm and cheeky grin. He was a right little gossip when be put new people around him.

Now she just had to hope they didn't all freak out when they found out the _last_ bit of her secret.


	22. Twists and Turns

**Ok. I'm sure all of you are as aware as I am of how long it's taken me to get this update up here. To be honest for a good amount of the time I had no excuse other than writers block, which is a real pain in my behind most of the time. Though for the last two weeks I've had a much more legitimate reasoning behind my delayed updating schedule:**

**- I'm no longer in the UK, but in Aussieland. I finally got to get here and visit my bf ^^ Yayness on a bun.**

**That's my excuse. So bite me x3 Its a huge thing, flying to the other side of the world to someone you've only ever seen by webcam without a parent or friend with you. I was so jittery its no wonder i couldnt write. But im kinda settled now, just need to find a job, so I managed to get an update I dont want to throw in the bin for you.**

**Happy reading. =3**

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**Wow...what a lot of reviews in my absence x3 Thank you all very much, and I am sorry for the delay. If i set these out in my usual pattern its probably going to be longer than the update, so go to edit - find, and search for your username in the next lump of text:**

**Sparkleglitz01: thank you very much. Iggy is my fall point...as well as Gazzy, I'm not entirely sure why. Sorry for the wait for an update... Iggy4ever: thank you for the review =3 one update for you, and I hope it's worth the wait. SavingShadow24: Read on and find out =P thanks for the review ^^. faxgirl: cheers! Tulipbook: what banana? =3 *hiding it behind her back*. happyasusual4: Thanks lol, i was a bit iffy about the ending i think..i can barely remember. Glad you like it =3 please do keep reading ^^. maximumsarah33: YES YES YES. JB Nicole: sorry about that .-. seemed a good place to end it, and huge apology for the wait. Hope you like this one. Silentbrokenheart: Hehe, more for you =3 you might like the little drama bit at the end. StandardAngel717: glad you like it that much ^^ I hope you keep reading after the uber delay. copper converse: thank you =3. FunOne007: Wow. Thank you x3 I'm glad you enjoyed it that much, I hope you like this one as well. mattygirl10: sorry about that .-. here's an update for you now. Phoenix Rain: Sorry for the huge delay, but update is here! maxme: not ended and not abandoned, just blocked x3 here you go. UPDATE!!!!!!: RAWR! almostagoodgirl5: one update for you.**

**Wow. That took a while x3 Thank you all for the reviews, i hope the big delay hasnt put you off.

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**Part 22**

Closing her bedroom door softly, Max took a deep breath to try steady her nerves. Behind her were her two oldest friends, seated on her bed and waiting for her to spill the beans. What she was actually going to spill they weren't sure, but they shared a worried glance behind her back as Max stayed with a hand pressed to the door and the other on the handle, her forehead against the cool wood.

It was taking all of her willpower not to sink to the floor and stay there.

Despite how at ease they'd seemed chatting away with Iggy and then listening to Angel telling them about the boy in her class as they walked the rest of the way home while Iggy and Gasman fell back to talk about something Max was going to have to interrogate them about later, she was pretty sure it had been a shock to learn the friend, who had been considered an only child as long as they knew her, had three siblings.

She took another deep breath. Yeah she'd already told this stuff to Fang, and then been forced to tell her teachers because of the agency woman coming, but she felt so guilty that her friends were the last to know. On top of that she was guilty she hadn't told them before hand and asked them to keep it a secret.

Stupid secrets. They all came back to bite her in the end.

She swallowed hard and curled the fingers pressed against the wooden panel, trying to force herself to turn around and face the shit she'd dropped herself into so many years ago by lying on her school application. She never really figured the details would get out until she left school.

That would be so much easier to deal with.

One more deep breath and she forced her eyes open, pushing herself away from the door and letting go of the handle as she span on the spot. She was instantly met with the concerned faces of her best friends, both sat with their legs thrown to the side and an arm holding them semi upright on opposite sides of the bed.

Attempting a smile, Max dropped it almost straight away when it felt more like a grimace than reassuring and instead half nodded to them, down casting her eyes as she pulled out the chair in front of her mirror and seated herself on it. She sat on it backwards and wrapped her arms around the back rest, her chin on top of it.

There were enough people on the bed already.

An awkward silence followed, both girls watching her carefully as she sat with her eyes closed, thinking through how to word everything. With Fang it had just come out all at once, flowed out through her lips and into his ears. With the school they'd asked questions she could mainly shake or nod her head to, just saying a few sentences. These were her oldest, dearest friends. They deserved more than a question and answer session, but she couldn't find the words.

Finally she sighed and opened her eyes again, lifting her head from the back of the chair to see her friends watching her curiously, their heads tilted slightly to the side in question. She flopped one arm into her lap and rubbed her eyes with the other, stalling for time.

"I didn't mean…to lie," she started finally, her face still hidden by her hand as she rubbed her tired eyes. When she finally dropped it she was greeted with confusion rather than curiosity, her friends trying to link a reason why she did it in their heads.

They were probably way off.

"Especially not to you…but…it was easier to keep up the act than tell you…" she dropped her eyes to the floor again and closed them, taking another deep, calming breath and clenching a fist in her lap. "I just wanted to keep my family together…"

After a few seconds silence Janine slipped off of the bed and crouched next to Max on the floor, hesitantly placing a hand over the girl's clenched fist. Max let her head look slightly sideways, opening the eyes threatening to spill tears to see the concern and yet care clouding her friends face.

Janine lightly stroked her fist. "We don't mind you didn't tell us, Max." she said softly as she held the girl's eyes as long as possible. Max did look away after a few seconds as she continued. "But why did you lie to the school, or even to us..? What was so bad you needed to hide your family..?"

Max squeezed her eyes shut again, a single tear escaping her eye as the same scene ran over and over in her mind. Her mother, laying on a cold, hard surface in the hospital morgue, a couple of doctors holding back the sheet, waiting for her to confirm that this woman was definitely her mother. Upstairs her dad was sat with Gasman and Iggy, right next to little Angel's bedside, waiting to hear any news.

Tears had been streaming down her face, but they still didn't cover the woman again, waiting for some kind of positive acknowledgement before they gave the body a name. That's all it was to them. Another body. Another thing to catalogue and dispose of. They seemed to forget that the eleven year old in front of them was looking at the cold, patched up form of her mother.

She remembered nodding once and they quickly covered her and took Max away, no body comforting her until a nurse at the top of the stairs saw her tears.

She sniffed and wiped the tear away with her free hand, once again aware of the hand stroking hers. Another came up to brush a few strands of hair behind her ear, drawing her attention to her right to see Maddy crouched at her other side, a hand trying to comfort her placed gently on her leg. She took another breath and shook he head slightly, causing another confused glance between her friends.

"I had to lie," she said, what little strength she could muster quickly putting an edge on her voice. "My dad couldn't look after us on his own. If I told the school on my application my only parent was unemployed and blind, they might have called a care home…we might have gotten split up…"

"Your mum left you?" Madison asked softly, her hand very slightly squeezing her leg. Max let out a half hearted, single laugh, sniffing hard before catching her friend's eyes.

"In a sense," Max replied in low, slightly choked voice. "She…wasn't very well after having Angel. She got depressed easily, never smiled…" Max closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek, resting her forehead against the chair back before adding in an almost inaudible voice: "She…killed herself…"

The hand on her leg tightened further. At almost exactly the same time so did the hand on her fist as both girls tried to think of something to say before another silence fell over them. Neither of them could think of anything appropriate after a few minutes, but Max broke the silence as she lifted her head and rested her chin on the chair back, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"I wasn't held back a year," she stated in a slightly stronger tone than she had before, her free arm wiping tears away again as she composed herself. "I stayed out of school to get the house in order, until we had some kind of routine going so the neighbours didn't report the kids going to school in dirty uniforms or whatever. We got as many benefits as we knew about and budgeted to keep everyone going, we just…didn't mention Dad was now a widower…"

"So you…" Janine trailed off, her brain failing to think of a way to phrase the question on her lips. Max nodded slowly, already aware of the question she was trying to ask. It was the question she herself would be asking if her friend sprung this on her:

'So you look after your whole family?'

The room fell into silence again as the girls digested all the information Max had given them. Max herself didn't take her eyes off the spot on the opposite wall, afraid to look at them in case she saw pity or even distain in their eyes. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

She just had to hope this wouldn't change anything.

*~*~*~*

Sighing softly, Fang tapped his fingers on the edge of the keyboard of his laptop and re read the blog update he was about to post. Not that he had much to say, considering the only achievement he'd made in the last few days was walking down the stairs on a crutch, but it was a way of keeping in touch with the few people who didn't despise him from his old school.

Now able to get up and down the stairs on one crutch without too much hassle, Fang's room was littered with plates and cups he'd gone and gotten to try and break up the boredom of being home alone all day. His mum had come home a few minutes before, and now he wished he'd taken all the stuff down half hour ago, like he planned to.

She wasn't going to be amused when she saw this mess.

Happy is didn't have any errors, he clicked **submit**and flipped back to the chat box tab, reading what everyone else had put while he was distracted. Of course he left out a lot of details he didn't deem necessary for his old friends to know. That included virtually everything about Max, the fact he kept getting bruises and cuts as well as how he got them, any mention of the scar on his back from the glass and the finer details of how he got a slashed leg.

Some of the detail was missed because it was embarrassing or was none of their concern, but mainly he left out any detail to do with his step father to protect them. A few of them, he knew, might go as far as coming up to try and help him, and he didn't want to risk any of them getting hurt.

"Good God, Nick. Did you set a bomb off in here or something?"

Fang looked up as his mum stepped through the doorway, her eyes scanning over the litter of cups and plates in his room. Some of it was accompanied by chip and sweet wrappers, and most were in random places all over the floor. As he'd predicted, she did not look amused.

"Got hungry," he stated when her eyes finally fell on him, a slight amount of annoyance playing in her caring eyes as she attempted to be firm with him. After a few seconds, she sighed to herself and shook her head slightly, picking her way through the cups and random washing up to hold the house phone out to him.

"For you." Fang raised an eyebrow as he too the phone, trying to think who it might be. He hadn't even given his phone number to Max, let alone anyone else in school. That meant it had to be someone from his old place. He looked up from the receiver to ask his mum if she got a name, but she was already leaving wit a stack of washing up in her arms. Tentatively, like it might sting him, Fang pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Fang!" The response was in an all too familiar girl's voice. Fang instantly frowned, tightening his grip on the receiver as she continued. "How have you been? Is it nice up there? Its been really cold and damp down here for so-"

"Brigid," he interrupted her before she could continue her spiel. If he let her continue now, he'd never get a word in edgewise later. "How the hell did you get this number?"

He heard her huff and imagined her petite face contorted into a frown. "It's called a phonebook, Fang! Jeez, its not like your in the witness protection program or something! People _are_ allowed to contact you without being murdered."

Fang repressed the urge to ran a hand slowly down his face. "I don't have a problem with people calling me, I have a problem with _you_ calling me." he could feel the hand holding the receiver shaking slightly from the tight grip and tried to relax it, waiting for a reply through the silence.

"That's not a nice thing to say to your girlfrie-"

"Ex." He reminded her harshly, his voice steely enough to strip wallpaper. "And if you were a decent girl and not such a bitchy cow I would consider talking to you. But you're not. You're a selfish little brat who ruined my life. Get it? Don't call me again."

He went to slam the phone down then realised half way it was a cordless. There was nothing to slam it onto. He lifted the phone back up to click the disconnect button with as much malice as he could, but a seemingly whispered phrase from the speakers in the receiver made him push it back to his ear.

"What?" he asked softly, hoping she'd actually say it again, to confirm he'd heard her wrong so he could put the phone down on her.

"I have something important to tell you," she said again, just as softly. "So Richard and I will be visiting in a few weeks."

_Shit,_ Fang thought as he listened to the dial tone after Brigid disconnected. This was the last thing he wanted to have to do, thought at least in this horrible household he'd never had to see some people again. Now he was not only going to have to face his father again but the girl that tore his mother's heart in two.

Fang's Ex girlfriend, now _technically his Step Mother._


	23. Discomfort in Mind and Behind

**Alrighty, sorry for the delay getting this one out. You know sometimes you have to just be sat in the right place to get some words out? My boyfriend got kicked out of his room (where my laptop was stealing a bit of his desk) and his computer was relocated to the living space. So here I am, the person uncomfortable with people reading over her shoulder, trying to write in an area where the main traffic of the house passes through every few minutes...**

**Jeez, right? Also, this is chapter 23, my unlucky number lol.**

**I cant take full credit for the 'Fang's ex is now his step mum' thing. It was a joint effort between me and my equally twisted-in-the-head friend *waves at coral if she ever gets around to reading this*. I was like "he's leaving Fang's mum for a girl in fang's class" and she went "it would se so twisted if it was his girlfriend..." and I went "...mmm, that could _work..._" and it just went from there lol.  
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**A little Faxness, and Fangicles finally spills some beans. I hope you like, and keep reading =3

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**Oceanlover14: They both are in desprate need of hugs...**

**happyasusual4: happy to oblige - update =3**

**Mattygirl10: My twisted mind is like that, lol. Glad you like it ;)**

**Silent Broken Heart: no worries lol. And crazy is how my brain ticks over, yay!**

**sparkleglitz: Yeah, she's ging to find out, minus one important fact. See if you notice which it is ;) and thank you :)**

**StandardAngel17: Glad you're enjoying it. Hope you keep reading ^^**

**J.B. Nicole: Lol, noodle soup. And yes, poor Fang's life is sucky...**

**XDHeAtHeRox: o.o murder rampages bad!!! *hides***

**Tulip Book: Way. Way Way.**

**boox914: plot twist!**

**FunOne007: Thanks lol.**

**Hannah Brandon 1234321: Yeah...thats probably not going to happen, it just doesnt seem...right. Thanks for the review, hope you keep reading =3 things will look up soon.**

**maximumridechick: thank you =3 for the compliment and the review**

**Crimson Scarz: My sentiments exactly.**

**TigeRawr: SOme Fax in here =3**

**muggleborn: Seems no one saw it coming x3**

**TaylorSwiftTwilightFan75 (1 and 4): Thanks for adding me x3 and I'll have a look when i get a little time, all up in the air at the moment lol.**

**Orange: Wow. Thank you. Here's an update :3**

**emotionalpoemgirl: If only I had the imagination for my own characters x3 glad you like it, ehre's an update for you :3**

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**Wow...thank you all so much for the reviews oO there's a heck of a lot of them there, like a page and a half of them. Its good to know people like this one ^^ Amazing the ideas you come up with on a train, like this story...  


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**Part 23**

Bushes are not very comfortable places to sit.

That was the conclusion Max came to while she waited in the bushes behind Fang's house on Saturday evening. She'd been so eager to see him again that she'd left with a little too much time to spare, so had been seated in these bushes for the best part of half an hour waiting for Mike to leave and Fang to make some kind of indication as to where they were meeting.

She shifted for the hundredth time and brushed a few twigs from her jeans, pulling her jacket a little tighter around herself and zipping it up. Though she'd tried to blot it out for easily twenty minutes, Max's ears kept tuning into the raised argument coming from a part of the house close to her hiding place, muffled by the wall but still barely distinguishable as voices.

A voice she vaguely recognised and placed as Nancy's was a little quieter than the unfamiliar male voice arguing with her, his own voice raised and unsteady. He seemed to yo-yo between shouting and raving to whispering to himself.

Max didn't like it. At all.

Every time his voice raised she winced, hoping not to hear the woman cry out or something break. Now it wasn't just a suspicion - she was pretty sure she could piece together what was going on behind the walls of her almost-boyfriend's house.

Suddenly Mike yelled at the top of his voice, so loudly Max could hear it through the walls and the tightly closed windows. She clamped a hand over her mouth before she got up and shouted back at them, forcing herself to stay seated, to stay hidden.

'He's not seeing that whore in my house!'

She was still sat like that, a hand over her mouth in shock and to prevent herself from yelling out, when the front door was pushed open so forcefully it smacked against the frame and recoiled slightly behind Mike as he stormed towards his car. Nancy, dressed in a night gown and slippers, raced after him and grabbed the man's arm, so loosely he jerked it away without even trying and rounded on her in a second.

"They kissed, Mike." Nancy said as evenly as she could, but Max could pick up the slightly shakiness in her tone. "They didn't do anything else." From her bush from the side yard she couldn't see the woman's face, but she could see Mike's, half hidden by the darkness and the other side illuminated sickly yellow by the outside light.

His features were creased in anger.

Before Max could even think his broad hand came into contact with Nancy's bare cheek, the slap sounding like a bullet in the silent night air. Her hand clamped tighter over her mouth entirely in shock as Nancy's own hand came up to hold her stinging cheek. Blinking back the tears she turned to look at her husband as he spoke.

"You don't lay a hand on me," he said in a dark undertone Max had yet to hear from him. "It's my house, and I can easily kick you and your freeloading little bastard out onto the street. Do you understand?"

After a few moments silence Nancy nodded wordlessly, her hand still pressed to her cheek as she subconsciously took a step away from her husband's stony gaze. He flicked his keys from hanging on a finger of his other hand up into his palm and turned towards his car without another word. Nancy stood and watched him leave, palm flat on her cheek and one keeping her rope tight around her.

Though she wanted to do something, Max had no idea what she could do. Appearing out of the bush after Nancy had just been hurt over her and trying to comfort the woman probably wasn't a good idea, and then it would be revealed that she was actually here. That would require explaining Max just couldn't handle.

It was a few seconds later she was pulled out of her mind and back to the present as Nancy sniffed hard, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and stepped lightly back into the house, pulling the door shut softly behind her. Max slowly dropped her hand into her lap and leant back against the wall behind her, taking a deep breath.

Now she knew, without the slightest doubt, what Fang was hiding.

*~*~*~*

It was dead on seven that Fang took his first few steps out onto the patio, taking care to hold his hurt leg clear of the sliders the porch doors rested on. He gently shut them behind him and, with a crutch supporting his damaged leg, covered the small distance to the lawn chair and settled himself into it with a soft sigh.

His mum and step dad had been rowing about Max into the early hours since the glass to the shoulder incident, and it was no where near getting any kind of good resolution. Mike seemed to have gotten it into his head he and Max had gone a hell of a lot further than kisses. That said, she was banned from his house. It would have been seeing her completely if Mike could control the people he saw in and after school.

Fang balanced his crutch against the side of his chair and leant right back, looking up at the stars that were breaking through the darkness. Nancy had tried to talk him around again this evening, before he went out to 'drink with pals', but all it seemed to get her was yet another bruise to hide.

God Fang wanted to hit him _so_ hard.

He ran a hand down his face and closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh. That wasn't the only thing he'd have to indulge Max with tonight, if she remembered to come or even dared to after the last time he'd seen her. He didn't mean to scare her, but it was the best way to get her out of the house before Mike got there.

"Jeez, Nick, you're going to catch a cold."

He opened his eyes again and smiled at the sight of Max pulling herself from the bushes in front of him, brushing twigs and random leaves from the arms of her jacket. Flopping his hands back into his lap he watched her undo the jacket and remove it, giving it one last shake to remove any more plant debris before laying it over his lap.

"I'm not _that_ fragile," he said, the same soft smile still on his face as Max tucked the arms of the jacket around his middle. She looked up and caught his eyes, a similar smile spreading across her one face as she crouched in front of him.

"It's your jacket," she shrugged, smoothing a little of it over his knees subconsciously without taking her eyes from his. Fang brought a hand up to gently stroke a few strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear before lightly stroking her cheek.

"Missed you," he said softly, lightly stroking his thumb over her cheek. She closed her eyes and leant a little into his hand, her own on his good knee to keep her from falling over. The last few days had felt like a lifetime to wait to see him again.

"Missed you too."

A few seconds later Max pulled herself up and placed both of her hands on the arms of his lawn chair, leaning over to press her lips to his. It was gentle and loving, warm against the cool night air, and Fang didn't need to be asked to respond and kiss back, bringing his arm up around her waist as if she planned to pull away. The thought didn't even cross her mind.

It was an easy thirty seconds before she did finally take her lips from his, but to Fang it felt like a second. It was no where near long enough. He left his arm around her as she smiled at him again, his own lips mimicking hers of their own accord as he ran a hand trough the hair hanging in front of her face, brushing it behind her ear.

Finally Max tore herself away to pull up a lawn chair, setting it down as close as she could without putting the feet of it on his own. He had his head tilted back and his eyes closed, breathing steadily like he was about to fall asleep, but he looked bright and alert when she touched his hand ever so lightly.

"You wont have to worry about keeping my family a secret when you go back," she finally broke the silence, looking down at his hand as she stroked it. "The government office called wanting a number and address for my school…"

Fang sat a little more upright. "They had no idea, right?"

"Nope," she replied as she looked up at him. He couldn't quite read the emotion on her face. "So now the teachers and my friends know, including Justin, so that means the whole school probably already know. Bloody gossip."

Smiling slightly, Fang grasped her hand a little until a small smile lit her otherwise troubled face. "It'll all be fine," he promised softly, thumb stroking the back of her hand. "If anyone says anything, they'll get my crutch bent over their head."

Max rolled her eyes, the smile on her face as wide as ever. Fang continued to smile until he heard a noise behind the closed doors. Both teen's attention was drawn to it, but when no one was visible Fang looked back at her.

"How much did you hear?" he whispered. He didn't have to state what it was, even if there might have been someone behind the door. Max knew exactly what he was taking about as she dropped her gaze and her smile, looking blankly back at his hand.

"What didn't I hear would be a better question," she stated without looking up, tracing a finger over his open palm. "Or what I didn't see…"

Though he didn't mean to, Fang flinched. He hoped Max had got there after the episode outside. He hadn't been near the door, but he heard it all from the top of the stairs. Including the addition of a new bruise to his poor mother's face.

"You'd already guessed though, hadn't you?"

She glanced up to his eyes and noticed that all of the joy from moments ago sapped away. It was the same pained look he was giving when his leg was giving him so much trouble, his eyes slightly creased and his features uncomfortable and tensed. She nodded once, holding his gaze until he broke it himself, looking once again a the sun lounge door.

"I…need to explain something else too," he added without looking back, his attention seemingly on something behind the curtain. He was frowning, sure he could hear someone, but there appeared to be no one there. Maybe he just needed more sleep.

When he looked back, Max's own features we creased, but in confusion. She was still absently stroking his upturned hand, tracing the lines of his palm so softly he could barely feel it. If he was ticklish he would have jerked his hand away by now.

He sighed softly and rubbed his eyes with his spare hand, causing Max's concern to contort into a frown. She had no idea there was something else in his head causing him issues. She suddenly felt sorry for him as he looked back at her, dropping his hand back into his lap.

How much shit could one boy endure?

"My parents had me really young," he stared, watching Max's face soften a little as she listened. "He knocked my mum up and was going to do a runner, but his parents made her marry her and get a job to support us both, a mechanic or something like that.

"I didn't have a relationship with my dad. He didn't want to admit I was there, so I didn't acknowledge that he was there. I considered mum my only parents and never really told him anything. That pretty much carried on the same way until I was twelve, when we started arguing.

"I was old enough to notice he was fooling around."

Max slowly stroked his fingers before holding them softly, her face sensitive and saddened. He shook his head once and looked out over the garden, easily fighting the emotions brewing below his surface as he always did. They never got out. His dad just wasn't worth the tears.

"He told me it was none of my business, but from there he would pick up on every little thing I did. If I was playing a computer game I got kicked outside, if I was outside I was getting too much sun and had to come in. Even when I was doing homework I had to go do something constructive that would benefit _him,_ like wash the car of whatever.

"When I hit fifteen I got a girlfriend, a pretty girl in my class called Brigid." Max frowned slightly. Why was he telling her about his ex? "We weren't serious at first, just hooked up for a dance and became friends, and after that she came around a lot and we got labelled as boyfriend and girlfriend. It was just an overrated friendship really, until we hit seventeen and she kissed me."

Max could feel her heart sag a little. He'd been her first kiss, but she hadn't been his. On some kind of subconscious level she already hated this girl.

"We got pretty serious a little before I moved up here, but then every time she came round my house she wouldn't be there to see me, she'd disappear into the shed to see dad…" He closed his eyes again, cutting his explaination shot, but Max could already see what was coming. She gave his hand a squeeze, drawing his attention back to her.

His face was so impassive, but his eyes betrayed what was beneath the surface.

"She was sleeping with him for a month, maybe two months, of our relationship," he finally added, his voice quieter, strained. "He left my mum for her and vanished."

Though she'd seen it coming, Max really didn't know what to say to that. She held the sad boy's gaze as she tried to comfort him, her expressions mirroring what should be plastered all over Fang's own face. She wanted to cry for him, to get him to cry so it wasn't all backed up inside his head, but she didn't know what to say.

So she did the only other thing she could think of.

She was out of her seat and pulling it away before he could even open his mouth to query, but even then he didn't get to voice an opinion as Max wrapped an arm around his shoulder and gently wrapped the other around his head, softly manoeuvring it into her chest and she stroked the back of his head.

Sinking into the hug, Fang felt a lot of the sadness he felt for his mum, the hatred he felt for his father, the betrayal he felt for himself, melt away into nothing. He burrowed his head into her, away from the outside world and all its fucked up inhabitants and wrapped his arms tightly around her middle.

Soothing. That's all Max did even when she felt the warm, silent tears begin to wet her shirt. She didn't care, she just rested her cheek on his head, gently smoothing the back of his hair as tried to sooth the gently crying teen in her arms. Months of pent up emotion flooded out of him as he clung to her, away from everything, just him and Max.

He didn't stay there very long. His brain quickly ticked over hat he was doing and he forced himself to stop crying an sit up, wiping his eyes on his bare arm and avoiding Max's gaze. She still had her eyes on his, a hand behind his head gently scratching the back, waiting for him to calm down again.

Both of them jumped when the sun lounge door slid open. There stood Nancy, a patch of concealer covering the bruise on her cheek glistening oddly in the light coming from the house. She pulled her robe around her tighter, a serious look on her face as the two teens in front of her shared a guilty glance.

_Shit,_ Max thought as she caught Nancy's gaze and smiled as sweetly as she could. _We're so busted._


	24. Ups and Downs

**Sparkleglitz: You know, I've completely forgotten what I called Fang's real Dad...I dont know if I catually gave him a name yet...owait, I did, its ok x3 I'll go reread that bit soon. But yeah, Max has seen it all first hand now. Hope you like nancy's reaction x3**

**TaylorSwiftTwilightFan75: Uh...this is quick for me atm x3 hope you enjoy the update.**

**happyasusual: Glad you liked the hug =3**

**XDHeAtHeRox: He definately needs to get away .-.**

**FunOne007: Thank you =3 Update. Yay!**

**faxgirl: Glad you find it awesomeness**

**Silent Broken Heart: *is imaginging that* That would be awesome...**

**Hannah Brandon: I promise there will be a squishy happy ending where bad people get punished/ severely hurt/ die and good people are joyous and live the rest of their lves peacefully =3**

**J.B. Nicole: Shiz indeed...**

**somecrazyshit: I has answered you question in this update, funnily enough. Was gunna do this little twist soon, might as well be now x3 Glad you like the writing, and hope you keep reading =3**

**BlackAnthea (5): Hehe, he should act more blind x3**

**(23): More =D**

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**Lol wow, lots of reviews again. I LOVE YOU ALL =D I hope you like the next update, and hopefully the next one wont be too far away... *crosses fingers*. The bf is away working in Sydney five hours away from me and I'm being left home alone alot for the next few weeks. Aloneness makes my boredom bunnies kick in, and they like to write. Yay for boredom bunnies. =D**

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**Part 24**

Trudging home in the slight drizzle of the late evening, Max had a slight smile on her face. Sure, the weather was awful and Fang's jacket was pretty much soaked through in less than a minute, making her freezing cold, but nothing could dull her mood this evening.

Not now.

She jumped to avoid a puddle on the floor, passing past the park entrance she had entered so many times with Fang before. Looked like she was going to continue to do so many times, considering the conversation they and Nancy had that evening.

"I know Mike has blown it out of proportion," Nancy had stated as she cradled a cup of coffee in her hands, dressing gown pulled tight around her shoulders. Fang sipped the mug of hot chocolate in his own hands, thankful for the warmth after being sat out in the chilly night air. Max had been tenser, sat dead straight and watching Nancy closely, drink untouched.

The woman had sighed and sipped her coffee, placing it on the coaster on the coffee table between the chairs. They were grouped around it, a sofa Nancy was sitting in facing a huge flat screen TV and two arm chairs, occupied by teenagers, on either side. She'd taken a moment to glance at her son and his girlfriend, then closed her eyes.

"I understand you don't want to stop seeing each other either," she'd continued softly, a hand absently tucking her dressing gown between her knees to keep it tight. "But you cant just turn up here. If Mike sees you, who knows what might happen."

Fang swallowed his sip. "You aren't going to tell him, right?" He'd ventured, hoping to God this would be one thing both Nadia and his mum could keep quiet. She'd half laughed before looking up at her son, catching his gaze. He could already see the disbelief echoing in them before she spoke.

"You think I want him to hurt you, Nick? Of course not." He'd instantly dropped his eyes to the drink in his hand, feeling foolish for even suggesting it. Max had let herself relax a little, repositioning her fingers on her still untouched mug of hot chocolate.

Their secret was safe.

"He's always out at seven on a Saturday," Nancy continued, now glancing over at Max. The teenager had looked up from her mug and caught the woman's gaze, holding it as she continued. "You're welcome to come around then, and stay the night as long as you're gone by noon the next day. He's never home before noon, and if he does there's the fire escape ladder in Nick's room you can use."

She'd smiled softly at Max, and the teen couldn't help but return it as Fang glanced between them. She was on their side - they could still see each other, even if it was on the sly, and Nancy wasn't going to spill the beans. She'd stolen a lance at Fang, and her smile had been quickly mirrored on his own face.

"But," both teen's eyes were drawn back to the woman as she paused to sip her coffee, eyes closed as she savoured the taste, then opening them again to meet their gaze. "No other times in this house, agreed?"

They had nodded in unison, no need to discuss the matter. Of course they wouldn't meet up in her house at any other time, not if she was the one protecting their secret. They had the park, or Max's house if they wanted to stay out of public view if Mike kicked off about them seeing each other at all.

It was all going to be fine.

Pushing her key into the lock, Max opened the door as quietly as the old hinges would allow, pushing it shut behind her and dropping her handbag by the stairs. She yawned and stretched her arms up high, realising afterwards that the living room light was still on. Curiously, she padded towards the room and peeked around the door.

Her father was seating in his usual chair, a hand on the remote and his unseeing eyes focused on the flickering screen. Max smiled softly as she stepped a little into the room, reaching out to gently stroke the back of his hand.

"How'd it go? Better than last time?" he asked before she even got close. She could never sneak past his expert ears. Max took a few more steps into the room and perched on the edge of the arm rest, eyes on the TV for a few seconds as she stroked his hand with her thumb, thinking of an answer.

"In a way," she stated without taking her eyes off the TV. She felt her father shift in his chair to look at her, a pointless move but a gesture she and the other kids appreciated when they were interacting with him. Except Iggy, for obvious reasons.

"In a way..?" he pushed as Max turned her head to look at him, his pale blue eyes glistening as the TV image reflected off of them. She turned her attention down to his hand and played with is pale, slender fingers, closing her eyes and sighing slightly.

"His mum, Nancy, caught me meeting him when I wasn't supposed to."

His eyebrows furrowed instantly, concern and little bit of disappointment written all over his face. "You were forbidden to see him?"

Max shook her head. "She told Mike that I kissed Nick and he blew it out of proportion, accused him of sleeping with me. He told Nick he never wanted to see me in his house again." She shook her head again, speaking a little louder without realising it. "But I couldn't just stay away while he puts up with that shit. I need to be there for him, to make him feel better…I didn't…"

She trailed off, the fact she resumed playing with her father's fingers alerting him to the fact she had no idea what to say after that. His face softened as he raised his other hand, finding her cheek easily and stroking it with his thumb.

"What did she say?" he asked gently, hoping she'd catch on about using a lower tone. The other kids were all sound asleep, though Iggy might still be awake at this hour reading a Braille book or something. He felt Max lift her head and followed it with his hand, barely breaking contact with her skin at all.

She took her father's hand and trailed it over her lips letting him feel her smile. He smiled gently with her as his hand was placed back on her skin. "She said I can come over every Saturday after seven, when Mike's not home, and stay the night when I want as long as I leave by noon the next day."

Her dad smiled, holding her cheek. "Just be careful, ok?"

"Of course, Dad." she replied softly, pressing a hand against the one on her face. "I'm needed too much here to do anything stupid, you know that."

*~*~*~*

Closing her door silently, Max flipped on her bedroom light and glanced about the room. Angel wasn't in her bed tonight, so at least she wouldn't be kept awake by the light being on for a little while. After a longing look at her bed, Max trudged over to her tiny desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a little blue notebook.

Slipping into her desk chair, Max flipped open the notebook to the page marked with an envelope. On the pages behind it were lines and lines of numbers and groceries. This was the little book she kept their budget in - what she spend on food, what she needed for the bills - anything that required money was written in this book.

Not that they had much to play with.

She opened the dried out envelope flap and pulled out the few green notes remaining inside. Her eyes scanned the data on the page as she counted the notes, making sure all the numbers she and Iggy had worked out were at least reasonably accurate.

They got three hundred dollars living allowance for her father every month, as well as another two hundred for Iggy and his school fees paid for. On top of that was her own and all the other kid's child benefits, adding up to about another three hundred and twenty bucks.

It was enough to get by, providing no one spent too long in the shower.

_Sixty…seventy…eighty…five. Two hundred and eighty five dollars? That's not enough._ Max double checked the money, then treble checked it, but it still came out as the same amount of money. Her brain began to panic, just for a split second.

She still had to pay the electricity bill and water bills. And the rent.

Two hundred or so dollars might cover the electricity bill, but the others would only be half covered at most, and they needed to go shopping this week. She placed the money back in the envelope and started searching the drawer it had been in, then the other pages of the notebook itself, but found nothing.

Scratching her head she sat back upright, running over the numbers in her books, then just the activities that cost them money. She hadn't put anything into Gasman's hospital fund this month year either, meaning that three hundred to four hundred dollars had gone missing. Considering all but two hundred dollars of the money was spend on bills and rent…

_Shit._

_She spent most of the night searching her room and the house for the remainder of the money, but she couldn't find any of it anywhere. Flopping down on her bed and running her hands down her face, Max mentally screamed._

_Where could it have gotten to?_


	25. Money Worries

**This is...a very short one actually. I've had this saved for a while but planned to add to it, but cant think of a way to, so this is all you're going to get I'm afraid .-. I'm starting the next chapter now, and as of tomorrow am unemployed (thankfully because i need to be rather than they kicked me) so I should get a bit more written, especially since i'll be home alone and have no one to distract me *coughboyfriendcough***

**So...here it is. Hope it isn too lame for you. =3**

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**Irisheyes: Sorry it wasnt soon .-. I hate writers block...**

**oceanlover14: you'll have to keep reading =3**

**Iggy4ever: Or the government. I blame them too.**

**edwardismyromeo: Uh...lessie...definately, maybe, probably, possibly and no? x3 ANd yes. Yes you do sound like Nudge.**

**FunOne007: Glad you liked it =3 Do keep reading ^^**

**boox914: Never. lol**

**lexigrrl09: delayed update .-. hope you still read.**

**TaylorSwiftTwilightFan75: Lol, my updates are so sporadic. Glad you liked it and understand x3**

**HannahBrandon: Thats the problem - they havent got the money yet, still got to have the lady down to assess them for it. That and its kind of neccessary for this month's bills and crud. And who took it will become apparent pretty soon =P**

**kirena45: glad you liked it, and sorry for the drag .-.**

**AlmostaGoodGirl: It was, and it might go up again .-. but im not entirely sure atm**

**SallafeK: (24) ^^ Thank you, I'm glad you liked it.**

**(23): Athankyou x3  
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**Lil Q: Thnx**

**XxMRulesXx: Lol, I'm way too inconsistant in my writing to become an author, unfortunately. But thank you for the praise =3 I'm glad you like it ^^

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**Holy cow that was a lot of reviews. I feel loved -w- Thank you all for the kind words and critisisms and stuff, hope you all keep reading =3  
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**Part 25**

It was Sunday. The day of prayer and rest, when only the unfortunate had to pull themselves from their beds and trudge into town for a few hours of work. Max was very grateful to the small number of people that did this, simply because she needed to go shopping today.

And that's pretty hard to do when the shops are shut.

Of course, the shops also shut ridiculously early on Sundays. That she could understand, but it meant here she was out on the streets at 8.15 on a chilly morning trekking the hour or so walk into town. Normally she would get a taxi when she needed to shop, she couldn't afford it, not this month.

She had stayed up all night trying to locate then trying to see where the missing money had been used, but none of it made sense. By the records in the book all of the missing money should be there, and they should have fifty dollars left for this weeks shop. Exhausted, Max had finally fallen asleep at her desk at three in the morning, being woken at six by her alarm to go into town.

Max yawned and readjusted the empty backpack on her back, filled with a couple extra carrier bags in case she needed them. Sure she could last with very little sleep for a few nights in a row without falling apart, but three hours was pretty lame even by her standards.

She'd have to have a nap later.

As she waited for the crossing to turn green, Max rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The agency lady was going to be around next week, she couldn't afford to be half asleep and have the cupboards barely stocked trying to conserve this money.

Crossing the road, the beeping crossing giving her a slight headache, she decided she'd have to spend her usual amount and hope the money would turn up. Even if it didn't it just meant they'd have to start taking it from the following month rather than the present one, but she hated that idea.

She liked having some money in case of an emergency.

Finally, she could see the shops on the horizon, A few people buzzed about them in an early morning high Max herself had never had the fortune to feel shudder along her veins. She breathed a sigh. Looks like she was going to have to have a chat with the kids, though her heart was hoping what her head was telling her was incredibly wrong.

*~*~*~*

Though he was obviously no longer bedridden, Fang had no intention of getting up until his stomach was trying to digest itself. He was stretched out on his bed with a tray on his lap, his sketchbook resting open and at a slight angle as he pencilled in an outline.

Nudge had let him borrow a pencil and rubber, since he hadn't been able to find the one in his school bag. He really needed to get a pencil case. That meant since she had give it to him early this morning he had been sketching away, getting the newest picture in his head down on paper.

If he was lucky, the school would let him submit this book instead of trying to catch up with all the term's work he'd missed. There wasn't too much longer left of school before a holiday, Christmas on the horizon. The air was getting chillier by the day and the forecast was beginning to threaten snow.

Walking on crutches in snow was going to be _so_ fun. Not.

He paused when he heard the front door open and slam, then twisted his wrist to check his watch. Half past one in the afternoon, that was pretty early for Mike to get home. He usually stayed out until about seven or eight, coming home bladdered for dinner.

Hoping that meant he wasn't drunk of his head yet, Fang went back to his sketchbook, rubbing out and going over the same line a few times until he got the angle the way he wanted it to be. Anyone looking over his shoulder would have no idea what it was yet, but he was no where finished.

His best works of art took days to do.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Fang ignored them as he continued to perfect lines and erase bits he no longer liked. He didn't look up for a few seconds when his door creaked open, but when he did he was met with Mike standing in the door, a can of beer in his hand.

_He can still walk up the stairs without falling, _Fang noted as he closed his sketchbook, eyes never leaving his step father's. _So he's not totally off his head yet…_

"You're back at school tomorrow," Mike stated before taking a long swig from his beer. Fang nodded once in agreement, but Mike wasn't even looking at him. His head was tilted back as he drained the last of his can. Fang frowned. He wasn't looking to talk to the boy, just tell him what was going on.

Mike swallowed the last drop and leant back against the doorframe, steadying himself as the alcohol hit his brain. He looked back at Fang, still on his bed, before looking away and taking hold of the door handle.

"Taxis wont do an account less than three months long. You're walking."

As the door slammed shut, , Fang smiled a little. Though it wasn't going to be the best experience of his life, he was happy he was being forced to walk to school. He smiled slightly to himself as he flicked back to the picture he had been drawing and looked it over for lines to correct.

At least if he was walking he'd get a little muscle on his skinny frame, since those crutches made his arms work so hard. That, and he could walk in with Max every day. He added the finishing touches to his frame lines and placed his pencil down, criticising his work before he added flesh and life.

He just hoped Max would like the finished picture.


	26. Grumpy Government Observer

**Alrighty...its kind of short again, but it actually moves the story on a little bit this time. I hope you like it =3

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**Part 26**

While she was making all the lunches up the following morning, Max was still lost in thought. The lady from the agency hadn't appeared soon after Max had gotten up this morning, so she assumed she couldn't be coming in today. That meant she had a few days to talk to the kids about it, but that wasn't what was playing on her mind.

That was where the money had gotten to.

She'd ended up saving some of the money anyway, so they had no treat for next weekend so they had a little emergency money they could fall back on if need be. Still, both Angel and Gasman had picked up on it, and Max had to tell them some of the money was missing.

They'd spent a lot of the evening trying to help her find it by going down the sofa and behind the furniture, but although it was sweet of them Max knew it wouldn't be there. Iggy went through the accounts with her again and again, but no money surfaced.

It had literally vanished.

Sighing to herself, she put some luncheon meat in between the two pieces of bread and wrapped it in cling wrap, carefully putting it in a lunchbox with a piece of fruit and a packet of crisps. It didn't matter. She'd either have the money from the agency soon or she wouldn't have any kids to look after anyway.

She turned, the pile of lunchboxes in her hands, to take them into the hall and pack them into bags, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed Gasman was blocking the doorway, looking sleepy and still in his pyjamas.

"You OK, Gaz?" she asked as she moved to put the lunchboxes down, not taking her eyes off the little boy. He seemed to be sad, the corners of his eyes pricking with tears, and Max frowned. He never cried. "Did you have a nightma-"

"Please don't be mad at me, Max." He interrupted, his shaky voice reminding Max how old her little soldier really was. He sniffed and reached into a pocket, pulling out a small wad of money. Max's eyes widened slightly. "I just wanted to get Iggy something nice for his birthday, we never have enough money, and I thought I could get him something, but…I didn't…"

Smiling gently, Max knelt down beside the Gasman and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of her hand, her other lifting his chin very slightly so he could see she wasn't angry. She took the money and placed it on the counter before wrapping Gasman in a hug.

"It's ok," she said softly, which seemed to make him cry harder. "I'm not mad. We'll make sure Iggy gets something nice for his birthday, but next time ask me before you make any money, ok?" She pulled away a little to look at him, but nodded into her shirt, tears still flowing. Max held him a little longer, stroking the back of his head lightly.

That was one problem solved.

*~*~*~*

Though he predicted it wouldn't be easy, Fang wasn't quite ready for how difficult it would be to walk to school on crutches. Sure, he could walk that far if he needed to, but he hadn't weighed his school bag into the equation while he was thinking about it.

It wasn't that it was getting in the way or anything, just that it was adding more weight to his poor arms that were supporting his weight rather than his leg. He could put it down on the ground now, but putting weight on it was a bit too painful to bare.

The didn't even want to try doing that with a school bag on yet.

His mum had been allowed out of the house to walk a little of the way with him, and she was kind enough to show him a shortcut to Max's road. It was an alleyway that cut behind a row of houses, meaning he missed the curve on the road with the park on it and lost five to ten minutes of his walk if he went the new way.

Having thanked his mum, he let her go home before Mike got arsey and set off down the narrow passage at a slow pace, balancing most of his weight on the other leg and the crutches. Occasionally he forgot he wasn't supposed to put his bad leg down and a pang of pain would shoot up his leg, but other than that he got to Max's without any drama.

She seemed genuinely surprised to see him on her doorstep and invited him inside to sit down while the kids finished their breakfasts and got their school bags together. He'd left very early to make sure he wasn't late and ended up getting there ten minutes early thanks to his mother's shortcut.

So he settled into an armchair and watched the chaos come to a conclusion.

A couple of minutes before they were due to leave, with the kids just putting their shoes on and doing up ties and coats, there was a knock on the door. With Max helping Gasman to do his tie, Angel was the one to go and answer it.

"Miss Ride?" the woman at the door asked, and Angel shook her head before pointing to Max, who had just straightened and turned to face her name. The lady swept past Angel and dropped her bag at the bottom of the stairs, looking about the hallway as she took off her scarf.

"It's a bit small for this many children, isn't it?" she asked curtly before looking at Max directly in the eye. "And we frown upon small children answering the door. They could be snatched and run away with before you can even react."

Max dared a sideways glance at Fang, who was rising from the armchair and rebalancing his weight on his crutches, though he'd forgotten to put his bag on and not noticed. Looking back at the woman who had just barged into her house, Max narrowed her eyes a little and shooed Gasman towards the door to join his sister, stepping slightly to the side so Iggy could pass too.

"We like this house," she stated as curtly as she could without sounding rude, watching Fang head for the front door out of the corner of her eye before grabbing the woman's scarf she'd discarded on the banister and holding it out to her. "And you'll want to put this back on, since you're a few hours late and we're about to leave for school."

The lady glared at Max for a few seconds before snatching her scarf back, grabbing her bag and storming outside. Max sighed loudly and ducked back into the living room to pick up Fang's back, swinging it onto the opposite shoulder to her own, before heading for the door.

So much for making a good first impression.


	27. Changing Faces

**Part 27**

The walk to school was one of the most awkward moments in Max's life that day, simply because none of the older kids, including Iggy, said a word the whole way and Gasman was still depressed about the money and non responsive to the woman's questions. Only Angel was being a chatterbox and skipping along side the old woman, one hand in hers as she happily and truthfully answered any questions she had.

Once the two youngest were gone, she began asking Iggy questions about his blindness, how much help he got for it at home, if he ever had any accidents and how often he had them. He answered them truthfully: His family gave him all the help he needed and he rarely ever had accidents, and if he did, Max was always there to help him to his feet and patch him up.

Next the questions turned on Fang, then Max after she established he wasn't an actual member of the family. She asked Fang how frequently he visited the house and if he thought anything was amiss with the family or how Max ran it, then she pulled Max ahead of Fang's current stride and speed.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

"So, Max." The woman started, opening her bag and reaching into it. "Since we had to leave your house in such a rush earlier, I didn't get to give you the forms you need to fill out, as well as introduce myself." She pulled her hand from the bag and with it, a thick folder filled with pages in plastic wallets and a few little books pushed inside it. She pulled out one of the books and handed it to Max.

"You'll need to fill out every page in those books," the woman said without looking at her, her attention on getting the folder back into the bag on her shoulder. Max flicked it open and scanned the pages, and her sickness sank back again. It was all about her finances, school history and her own personal history, most of which would be known to her by the end of the school day anyway.

Piece of cake.

Max smiled to herself and closed the book, having to continue to hold it since she had no way to put it in her bag. Both her arms were taken with her own bag and Fang's at the moment. The woman looked back up at her, and Max swore she saw a ghost of a smile play on her down turned lips.

"My name's Maria," she added in a friendlier tone, and Max smiled at her. This was a slightly better start than the one they had at the house. Maybe this wasn't going to all go down the toilet after all.

"Nice to meet you," she responded, and was certain she got a smile that time.

As they approached the school, Maria strode ahead of them to sign into the reception. Max slowed her pace to allow Fang to catch up again, a smile still on her face as she watched the woman's back disappear into the school building.

"If she takes the kids from you, I'll never forgive myself." Fang stated softly as the reception door closed. He looked up to catch Max's eye, and frowned slightly when he saw she was smiling. She looked at him briefly before casting her eyes back to the now closed school doors, the bell for morning form piercing the quiet morning.

"I dunno," she said as they picked up their pace, neither wanting to be late for class. "I think she's nicer than she seems."

Resting his forearms on the table, Fang gazed around the Art studio as his new teacher poured over his sketchbook. Two of the walls were painted a bright, slightly eye-burning blue, while the other two were a custard yellow. Over these were sketches and paintings various students had done in the past, their style variety almost staggering.

The rest of the class was settled and working on their own sketchbooks. They had to study an artists style and then mimic it in their own artwork. Other than the style, the students could focus their project on whatever they fancied; people to animals to cartoons.

"Well well," he turned back to look at his teacher, a short woman with a tie-dyed headband keeping her frizzy red hair from falling in front of her face. She wore small, round spectacles on the tip of her nose, which she was gazing through to critique his work. Her dress was knee length and looked like someone had just thrown various buckets of orange and brown paint at it before tacking on a thick dark brown belt around the middle and lining the neckline with the same material.

"Very nice work, Mr. Arnold." She continued, looking up at him as she closed the book and laid her hand on the front cover. "If you can name an artist that draws in such detail and mention his work, by all means you can submit this book for your year project."

Fang smiled, taking the book from her and balancing himself on the one crutch he'd brought with him to her desk. He stood up straight and took a hold of his support, keeping his eye contact with the teacher as he took one step towards his table.

"Can I use a computer to research one?" He asked, and smiled thankfully when she nodded and motioned him to one of the few computers around the classroom's edge. As she went to check on her student's progress, Fang closed the small distance between the teacher's desk and the seats he and Max had taken, dropping his sketchbook on his on desk space.

Max didn't notice him there. She was too busy scrubbing out some pencil lines in her own notebook, unhappy with the sketch she had just done. Fang peered over her shoulder, watching her erase a series of squiggly lines that didn't seem to make any kind of picture at all.

"Why don't you do abstract?" he asked over her shoulder, making her jump. Letting out a breath, Max sighed and put the pencil down on the table, resting her forehead on her arms as if she were about to sleep and muttering something into her arms.

"Huh?"

She tilted her head up a little, looking at Fang from the corner of her eyes. "I said I can't do abstract either," she repeated, this time so he could actually hear. "It just looks like blocks of colour, it doesn't mean anything to me…"

Resting his crutch against the table, Fang sat back in his seat and picked up Max's sketchbook. Little of the pages had anything on them, and the few that did were not really able to be called works of art. Most of the used pages were covered in scribbles that had been almost completely erased because she didn't like them, the rest blank or dirty for some reason or other.

"You have to make it mean something," he stated has he put the book down on a clean page, pushing the book towards her. He held out her pencil until she took her head from her arms to receive it, her eyes a little confused. "It can be blocks of colour and shapes to everyone else, but how the artist sees their piece of work is most important."

After giving him the look for a minute longer, Max transferred her confused face to the blank page before her. She heard Fang get up but didn't look back around, her mind whirring away as she tried to think of something she could draw.

What could she draw that had meaning to her?

Leaving his own sketchbook on the table, Fang hobbled over to a computer and settled himself into the seat, turning on the screen and the main device before looking back at Max. Her pencil was now flying over the sketchbook in front of her, and he couldn't help but smile before turning back to the computer screen.

Now, to find an artist he could write about.

Forty five minutes later, Max had finished the first piece of work in her sketchbook she didn't want to just erase and start again. She sat back and examined the design, an abstract mess of shapes and colours, with a smile on her face. Sure, no one would understand it but herself, but that was the point of it.

It was a piece of her life, just so cryptic no one would get it.

Putting the coloured pencil in her hand back in the tray, Max stretched her arms above her head. She'd finished something before the end of the lesson, with a good fifteen minutes to spare, and she didn't want to burn it. Today was looking up.

It was as she relaxed in her chair that she noticed Fang's own sketchbook was still on the table, and a glance backwards confirmed he was still up to his ears in computer data. Curiosity getting the better of her, she pulled the book towards her and slowly flipped through the pages.

All of the drawings inside were better than she could ever hope to do. He seemed to have an eye to detail, because every picture was almost expertly shaded, all the textures looked so real they might feel like that if you stroked the page. There was a puppy in there that looked so soft Max wanted to hug it.

It was only a few minutes before she got to the last sketch, which was dated three of four days ago. It was only half finished, and it took Max a little while to realise it was of a person; the face was still empty of detail, just an oval surrounded by flowing hair. She smiled at the amount of effort he put into every piece in this book, each one seeming to take at least a week, if not two or three, as she ran a finger over the sketch before her.

She might still fail, but Fang was definitely going to pass this class.


	28. Bullied By Proxy

**Finally, a decent length update =D Arent you all happy? Well...probably not because it took this long x3 But there you go. here's some drama, next chapter there will be FAX. I hope you enjoy, and sorry if I havent responded to your review, I'm trying to get into the habit of replying to them as I get them, but I appear to be failing atm ^^; Give me a few weeks, eh? :P**

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**Bullied By Proxy  
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Closing the door behind her, Max let out a sigh of relief. The agency woman was now gone, and the household had run smoothly for the section of the day they were at home. She turned off the hall light and padded softly up the stairs, a slight smile on her face.

Gasman had cheered up by the end of school and spent a good hour or two showing the lady his rock collection, all of which found on the way to school. Angel had shown her how well she could do maths, and then showed how helpful Max was at helping her with her homework, even when she was already busy making dinner, and the lady seemed to approve of this too.

She witnessed how aware everyone was of keeping the house tidy, so Iggy and his father didn't need any guidance around their house and didn't fall over a single thing while she was there. She saw them all sit down for dinner, even joined them, and had a laugh with the family. Max smiled at her across the table. The grumpy woman from this morning was gone. She didn't completely understand it, maybe it had been a test from the agency, but one thing was certain.

She was sure they were going to get a good report.

Finally she'd sat in the living room chatting to her father over a cup of tea, while max organised the kids to finish their homework and get to bed on time. Even after her father went to bed, Maria hung about and chatted to Max as she finished the last of her chores for the evening. She was happy and interested, and Max felt entirely at ease with her.

Pushing open the bathroom door, Max flicked the light on and went to the basin to do her teeth, squirting a stream of toothpaste onto the brush and wetting it under the tap before putting it in her mouth. As she brushed, she glanced at herself in the mirror, still a little steamed from Angel's shower that evening.

Her hair was still neat and tidy and pulled back out of her eyes, the few stray bits about her face tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were bright brown, sparking as they stared back at her. She stopped brushing her teeth and looked a little closer, so close she could see the tiny freckles that dotted over her nose.

What she saw reminded her so much of a photo in her mum's old album, of a young girl and boy standing arm in arm, the lad looking a little the wrong way and the lady beaming with happiness, a small pregnancy bump just visible under her dress.

Never before had she realised how much she looked like her mother.

Now he knew how long it took to get to Max's house on crutches, Fang didn't get there quite as early the next morning. He was wrapped up in a thick coat and a scarf his mum had bunged on him before he left the house this morning, the cold air turning his nose a bright red as he took the few steps up to Max's front door.

He leant a crutch against the wall and pressed the doorbell, wasting no time in plunging that hand into his pocket to warm it up. He didn't have a pair of gloves, so his fingers were like icicles as they sought refuge in his pocket, wrapping around the paper folded in there.

For once Max was the one to open the door, the other kids around the table just finishing their breakfasts. She smiled widely, which was almost instantly mirrored on his own face, before opening the door wide so he could get through on his crutches.

The kids piled out of the kitchen and into the hall to grab bags and coats, Iggy hanging back to wait until it was clear for him to do so too. Fang sat himself on the steps to keep out of the way, resting his crutches beside him as Max checked they all had their lunchboxes and were pulling on hats, scarves and gloves.

Finally, they were ready to leave, and Max bustled them all out of the house before Fang so he could get out the door and down the path at his own pace. As he reached the kids on the pavement and Max was locking the house, he felt a little ball of freezing cold material land on his nose. Wriggling it, he looked up at the sky, and smiled very slightly.

It had started to snow.

By the time the school kicked out, the ground was covered in an inch of snow. The cars on the roads were moving slowly as they tried to navigate the developing blizzard to reach their kids and get them home, and street lamps were already lit to light the way.

Fang wasn't having much fun either. As he predicted it was hard to walk anywhere on crutches in the snow and he was struggling to keep moving forwards without falling over. Max had gone ahead to pick up Iggy, since she couldn't let him navigate his own way out in snow, in case he fell.

Flexing his frozen fingers, he pulled the crutches out of a snow drift and set them down ahead of him. He sighed as they sank into another snow bank under his weight, wasting no time in dragging them out of the pile of snow as soon as his good foot was back on the floor, the will to continue coming from the thought of seeing Max again.

"Well well, look what we have here."

The voice sent a shudder of recognition through Fang's brain. He quickened his pace as much as the crutches allow without even thinking about it, not wasting the effort of acknowledging the voice behind him by looking over his shoulder. He knew exactly who it was, and he didn't wish to meet the boy again.

"Why the rush, Nick?" The voice was closer this time, and even through the wind Fang could hear it belonged to Damien, confirming his first assumption. He kept on walking without looking around, focusing on getting to Iggy's school and nothing else.

Being unable to walk faster than his crutches would carry him, it was barely a second later a boy looped in front of him and blocked his path, stopping Fang in his tracks. It was Jake, the boy who'd chased after Max in their last encounter, that blocked his way. He was wearing a parker and thick gloves, and one of the most embarrassing bobble hats Fang had ever seen.

If he wasn't popular, he would have been laughed out of school.

Fang took that moment to regain a little of his energy. Walking on crutches in itself had been an exhaustion, getting to school and back, but in the snow it was leaving very little energy in its wake. Jake sneered and took another step closer, and Fang tightened his grip on his crutches.

"Move." To anyone with half a brain, the voice would have sounded threatening. Neither Jake or the boy now blocking the exit behind Fang seemed to get this, considering they just laughed, making him harden his glare and grip even further.

Normally, he might have more patience, but he was cold and tired, and these guys were getting in his way.

He pulled on one of his crutches to put it forwards, planning to barge Jake out of the way if he had to, but a firm tug on the metal and it refused to move. Quickly regaining his balance, Fang stole a glance over his shoulder, catching the eyes of a sneering Damien kneeling in the snow and holding the pole still.

"Why the hurry?" he repeated as he gave the crutch a yank backwards, and Fang almost ended up face first in a snow drift as the motion upset his balance. Another tug and the crutch was wrenched from his grasp and he had to balance himself on his remaining crutch. "Desperate to catch up with darling Maxine?"

Carefully, he steadied himself on the remaining crutch, balancing on one leg to switch it to the other side, the side he needed most support. Even if he had something to say, he wouldn't trust himself to speak. Any belief he could be threatening had gone out the window with his crutch being stolen.

If he spoke and sounded weak, he'd probably get beaten up.

Damien walked around to the front of his victim, swinging the crutch this way and that as he went. Fang watched him with emotionless eyes as he propped himself up on it just to the left of Jake, arms folded on top and chin on top of them as he smiled wickedly at him.

Finally, Fang broke the stare war to pull his remaining crutch out of the snow drift and placed it and his damaged leg forwards, using the crutch as a third leg to pull himself forwards with it, making him almost nose to nose with Jake. Being a bit simple minded, the lackey glanced stupidly at his friend, silently asking him what to do as Fang got ready to barge him out the way.

Then a neurone actually sparked in his evil little mind, and he grabbed the body of the crutch before it could even touch the ground. Damien smiled wickedly as he watched Fang bring his gaze back up from the floor to meet his partner's, and then his last support was gone.

He didn't stumble, as Damien wanted him to, and was incredibly disappointed to see Fang still standing as Jake moved out of the now immobilised teen's path. The tiptoe of his damaged leg was all that was on the floor to keep that side balanced, and Fang took a deep breath as he took in the long, snow covered street ahead of him.

Even if Iggy's school was just around the corner, now it felt like miles.

"Go on, _Fang_." The sneering teen emphasised the nickname he'd heard at school, unfolding his arms from the top of the crutch and picking it up. "That cunt of an orphan girlfriend is waiting for you. You'd better get moving."

He would have pointed out that she still had a father, so wasn't an orphan, as well as smacking the boy around the face for insulting Max as well, but his common sense told him he wasn't in any position to do either. He'd been left in the middle of a snow storm with no supports, and he wasn't supposed to be walking on his leg without crutches until the end of the week at the earliest.

_Not like I have a choice_, he thought as he tentatively put his bad foot down properly on the floor barely two inches in front of the other. He took a deep breath before lifting his other leg, and for the fraction of a second it was raised off the ground a red hot shot of pain spread through his thigh.

Then his good leg was back on the floor, and it turned into a dull throb.

Fang took a moment to take a few heavy breaths, letting the pain die down a bit before he put his bad foot forwards again. As soon as it was flat on the snow he pulled his other leg equal with it as quickly as possible, but the pain shooting through his thigh was almost unbearable until his good leg was back on the ground again. He swallowed hard, steeled himself, and put his bad foot forwards one more time.

Then he felt the rubber bottom of a crutch pressing into his back. "Go faster," Damien smiled at the back of Fang's head, then as he lifted his good leg from the floor Damien jammed the crutch hard into the space between his shoulder blades.

The pain shot through Fang's leg again, but this time it had no reprieve until he was face down in the snow. He tried to put his other leg out, but slipped on the icy pathway and tumbled forwards instead, arms outstretched to break his fall. He landed in a snow drift with a soft thump, the snow instantly melting on the side of his face and all over his jeans and coat. Without meaning to, Fang let out a low groan as he tried to pull at least his top half from the freezing cold street.

Both Jack and Damien were laughing as Fang wiped as much of the icy water from his face as a soaking jacket sleeve will allow, not even daring to try and pull his lower half up yet, his leg still too painful. He looked over his shoulder to see if the boys were leaving as their laughter receded, but instead was met with a crutch to the face, jolting it back towards the snow.

"That bitch of yours hit me with a brick." The anger in Damien's voice was dangerous, and Fang felt a shot of fear enter his system. He swallowed the yell as the crutch came into contact with the back of his head, harder than the last time. "She got me grounded. Detention. She almost got me expelled because we beat _your _sorry ass."

He didn't dare to raise his head, just kept staring at the snow below him, feeling some blood drip from his nose and stain a little of it red. He wiped it with the back of his sleeve, the icy soaked material making his face feel frozen and even wetter, before Damien grabbed his face and forced him to look around.

"Tell her she's next," he spat, giving his side a kick before throwing the crutch he was holding onto Fang's back. Jake imitated his peer with a happy grin on his face, and the two of them turned to head home, leaving Fang to pull himself up from the snow.

"Hey, Asshole." He recognised the voice immediately, and Damien span to glare at the owner. Kneeled next to Fang, who now had his crutches in front of him and was attempting to get up, was Max. She rose to her feet and dropped her bag to the floor, a glare so dark it would could have scared Satan himself as she peeled sodden gloves from her freezing hands.

"Try me," she stated as she dropped her gloves to the floor, a small smirk forming on her face.


	29. Awkward Discussions

**Part 29**

As Damien pulled off and threw his bag to the floor, Max readied herself into a stance more suitable for a fight. She moved one of her legs back discretely, making it look like she was taking a step backwards, hoping he would interpret it as fear. She also kept balling up then spreading her fingers wide to raise the circulation.

Admittedly it would hurt less if they were numb, but she wanted to feel a bone crack.

"You're going to regret this one, Martinez." He stated as he started to close the distance between them, his fist curling into a ball as his stride slowly got wider and wider. Max held her head up high and watched him carefully, trying to predict his movements as best you can with an aggressive teenager. "I'm going to enjoy beating the shit out of you."

There were very few people in Max's school that knew anything about her past, let alone the specifics of her childhood. While her mum had been alive and they'd had money, her nervous mother had decided it would be a good idea for her and Iggy to take self defence lessons.

She was terrified her brood might need to defend themselves someday. The doctors later picked that up as an early warning card of her depression and anxieties that went unnoticed for so long, but even so it meant she and her brother were taught most of the basics of several special defence classes before they pulled out to look after the rest of the brood.

_Right fist_, _aim for the chin to stun and allow thought time._ she thought as he ranted, closing the distance between then with increasingly large and quick steps. _Dodge to the left and blow before he can recover. _Her brain added as she continued to watch him closely. Barely a millisecond later he'd begun his left fisted swing, and Max was quick to start her own strategy.

The look on his face when he missed was priceless.

Before he could think her right fist, now curled into a tight fist, sank deep into his fleshy stomach. Damien looked like he was going to hurl as he stumbled back a few steps, doubling over to hold his pained middle. As he did so Max thrust her knee up as hard a she could, catching him square on the nose. The force sent the boy head over heels, landing on his back with a groan.

Max stood up straight and flexed her hand as the teenager rolled onto his side and curled up on the floor, one hand to his now gushing nose and the other wrapped protectively around his stomach. She looked up to see Jake had done a runner, eaten by the blizzard as he made his escape. A glance behind her told her Fang was on his feet but leaning on a nearby wall.

She looked back down, and felt a tiny bit of pity for the pathetic individual on the floor. Then it faded and she issued another kick to his gut. He let out a strangled yell and his blooded hand came from his nose down to his stomach as he held it protectively.

"Well, _I_ enjoyed beating the shit out of _you_." She commented, pulling his now bloodshot, wet eyes up to her. There was blood sinking into the snow all around his face and the snow was happily soaking his clothes as he lay there bewildered. She shrugged and stuffed her frozen, slightly aching hands into her pockets.

"Hope it's broken," she added, then turned back to Fang. He was standing with the aid of his crutches but he looked a little worse for wear. He had a cut on the side of his face that blood had tricked down under his chin, heading down his neck to dye his collar.

She licked her thumb as she got to him and moved to wipe the blood from his neck, but Fang jerked away as best he could while being held up by metal poles. She frowned and dropped her hand back to her side, Fang looking over her shoulder at Damien as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Why do they have it in for you?" he asked softly as Damien finally got up shakily. He gave the couple one last glare before he sprinted away, leaving his bag behind in the snow in his haste to leave. Fang felt her damp thumb touch his skin, but this time didn't jerk away but looked down at her eyes.

She shrugged and continued to wipe the blood from his neck. "I protected you last time," she guessed, licking her thumb again and tackling the line on his cheek. "Since I beat the shit out of him twice now, I think I'm far from getting them off my back…"

Glancing up at him, her hand paused on his face when her eyes caught his. She sighed and stuffed both of her hands in her pockets, looking down at the snow floating between them before catching his eyes again. "They'll pick on anything that makes you different. If they knew your Mum isn't with your real Dad anymore, they'd use that against you instead."

His eyes instantly darkened, and a sick feeling spread through Max's gut. She hadn't meant to bring up anything delicate, but then again he'd never told her about his past other than his parent's had broken up and he'd ended up out here with his Mum. Maybe there was more to it.

"I didn't mean t-" she started, but Fang shook his head and turned his back on her, and Max paused. She watched him put his crutches forwards and pulled himself forwards a few inches, the snow obviously giving him trouble as he dragged them out of a pile of snow to put them in front of him again.

"You can talk to me, Fang." She whispered as he walked away, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She looked about her, watching the now smaller flakes float about her in a blanket of white, before glancing back at Fang. He'd frozen in his tracks still facing Iggy's school, and it was a few seconds before he looked back over his shoulder.

"Please," she said a little louder, taking a few steps towards him. "Talk to me…"

His eyes seemed to unfocus as he looked around him as Max had. The snow had covered everything in a thick layer of white: The graffiti could no longer be seen, the skid marks on the roads were no longer visible. Even the leafless trees looked like they had their foliage back again, like a fresh start.

When his eyes finally fell back on Max's she still looked worried. He hands were buried in her pockets and her eyes looked sad. He sighed and turned back towards Iggy's school, flexing his frozen fingers before tightening his grip on his crutches.

"Go and get the kids and drop them off at home. Then, as soon as you can get out, come and meet me in the park." He said without looking over his shoulder, putting his crutches forwards to take another step. "I'll tell you everything when you get there. Its about time."

With that he began his trek through the snow again, carefully placing his crutches every time to avoid the icy patches. Max stood stock still until he was out of view, then looked around at the blizzard engulfing the street around her once more.

A shiver slipped down her spine, but it wasn't from the cold.

* * *

The snow was easing off by the time Max got back out of her house, tiny intricate snowflakes settling on her nose as she trudged to the park. She had a spare set of gloves in her pocket and a thermos of hot chocolate tucked under her arm, both things her Dad had suggested at the last moment and helped her throw together.

Now she was heading to the park her stomach was filled with butterflies. She'd told him everything about her past what felt like a lifetime ago now and she felt better to have shared it all with someone, but she was worried about what she was going to hear now.

She actually felt kind of sick.

Slipping through the park gates, Fang was easy to spot against the white blanket over the grass. He was on a bench just inside the child's play area, his eyes gazing down the field rather than at the entrance. His crutches were rested against an enormous snowman with a carrot for a nose, no eyes and a bucket for a hat the local kids who were snowed out of school had made that day.

She crunched her way across the crisp snow and Fang turned just in time to see her open the playground gate. Looking back over the snowy field, he sighed to himself and rubbed his frozen hands together, his pockets failing to warm them up.

Silently, Max slipped onto the bench beside him and placed the thermos on the floor to fish the spare gloves from her pocket. She tapped him lightly on the arm and offered them to him, and got a slight smile before he took them and slipped the warm material over his frozen fingers as quickly as he could.

Then he sat on them until they were nice and toasty.

He sighed softly as he returned his now warm hands to his lap, glancing sideways to see Max pouring the contents of a thermos into two plastic cups. When offered he took one with a slight smile and drank a little of the hot chocolate, glad she brought something to warm him up.

Beside him Max remained silent. She was bursting with questions to get him talking, but knew she couldn't voice them. It was inappropriate, and she didn't want to annoy him into silence.

She cupped her hands around her own beaker and took a sip, dropping her hands back into her lap and taking a fleeting glance at Fang before returning her eyes to her surroundings. He took another long sip from his cup before dropping his own hands to his lap, the noise of his fingers nervously tapping his cup muffled by the gloves.

"My parents didn't love each other," he finally broke the silence. Max looked over and watched the side of his face while he took great interest in the contents of his cup. "They were fucking about and Mum accidentally got pregnant.

"Dad didn't want me, even if Mum did." He added as he closed his eyes, his hands slowly turning the cup in circles. "He wanted Mum to get an abortion, but her parents wouldn't allow it. They're strictly religious. To them an abortion is murder, and they stormed off to talk to his own Mum and Dad."

Max's eyes softened as he took a deep breath, almost covering the slight shake in it before he took another sip of his hot chocolate before he continued. "They finally decided it was my parent's own fault and they had to live with it, and took it upon themselves to arrange their marriage." He looked up at Max, but looked back down at his drink as soon as he saw the pity in her eyes.

"Two months later they said their vows, swearing in front of God that they loved each other.

"Bullshit," he whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. "All bullshit. Mum was glad she had someone to help her, but Dad…" he phased out, tapping the side of his mug before taking another long swig. He looked back up at Max again, holding her gaze this time.

"He wanted out right away, but his parents were forcing him to stay." He continued, looking back over the icy field. He was glad for the extra warmth seeping through the gloves and into his hands, because even the wool around his fingers wasn't keeping them that warm. "So he just…went about it in his own way…"

Max frowned at his cheek while he took another gulp from his cup, almost downing the last of it as he did so. She grabbed the thermos and started undoing the lid, listening to him as she poured the last of the hot chocolate into his cup. "Both my parents used to work, and when I was five my Dad started his own workshop, so he could control his own hours.

"That's when he started bringing _clients_ home," he almost spat the word, now glaring at his cup as he turning it around and around in his hands. "Funny how they were always pretty girls that he ushered upstairs before they saw me and told me not to disturb him while he did business."

She placed the thermos back on the floor and shuffled a little closer to him, placing a hand on his knee. Looking down, his face softened as he placed a hand on hers. She turned her had over and took a hold of his, hoping it was giving him some comfort. He closed his eyes and took another drawn out breath.

"Mum used to work late, and Dad used to pick me up from school with a girl in the front of the car. She'd stay round our house for a few hours before he would give her a home and collect Mum." He continued, giving her hand a little squeeze. "And when I was ten I went against Dad's wishes and told my Mum about the women he brought home, but she told me I was being silly.

"At the time I thought she didn't believe me, now I understand she just didn't want to know."

He took another sip from his cup before dropping it to his lap, now gazing out over the park. "I tried to confront him when I was 12, but that ended in shit, so I adopted my Mother's view on it: Just let him get one with it and pretend you don't know.

"I went to high school and ignored what he was like as best I could, just didn't have anyone around my house in case Dad has his latest tart upstairs. When I was 15 I got together with a girl in my class, and kept her a secret until Mum realised I was always out at the weekend and asked about it.

He looked down at his cup again, swirling the remainder of the hot chocolate absently. "That was a mistake."

Max frowned at his cheek as he downed the last of his hot chocolate, her own cup still half full and forgotten on the floor next to the empty thermos. Fang dropped the empty cup back into his lap and stared at it with an unreadable expression, letting his mind run away with itself. Max taking the cup from his fingers snapped him out of his memories and back to the present.

"About a year later I came home from school to find my Dad packing half of the house into boxes and shoving it in his van," he said as he watched Max place his cup upside-down on top of the thermos while she listened. He pressed his hands between his legs to keep them warm, looking up at the grey covered sky. The snow had finally stopped, but the clouds were still hanging around.

"I called Mum and they let her out of work early to come home, where he announced he found a new girl, and that I was old enough not to need a Father around anymore. Mum asked who it was, and he went and got the girl from the car…"

Max bit her lip when Fang looked around at her. He sighed and shook his head before dropping it into his hands and rubbing his eyes slowly. "I don't even have to say it, do I?" He commented without looking up. "It was my girlfriend. They'd been dating for a year…sleeping together for half a year…"

He went silent, and Max wasn't quite sure what to say. He still had his head in his hands and his breathing was a little strained, like he was trying not to cry. After a few seconds she shuffled a little closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nuzzling his cheek before pressing her lips to the side of his head.

"Thanks," he whispered, letting his hands fall into his lap as he looked up at her. She smiled very slightly and slowly rubbed his shoulder as his gaze wandered back out over the frozen grass. She laid her hand back on his knee, and he placed a hand on hers and rubbed it slowly.

"No problem," she whispered as she rested her head on his shoulder to watch the new fluffy of snowflakes float about in front of them. Fang leant his head against hers and squeezed her hand as they watched a new blizzard unfold. He felt a little better to get that off his chest and smiled very slightly to himself as the flurry became thicker and thicker.

Sure he'd been through enough shit to last him a lifetime, but most of that was behind him now. He decided it would be better to talk about Brigid coming up at a different time and instead remained silent, slowly stroking her hand as he watched the snowstorm engulf the footprints he'd made getting to the park bench.

Whatever he had to face now, it didn't matter. With Max behind him, he was sure he could cope with anything.


	30. Flashback

**Part 30**

Sat at the dining room table, a twelve year old Nick was tapping the table with his pencil as he tried to do his math homework. He was usually good at Math, it was one of his best subjects, but he had other things on his mind right now.

It was a Saturday afternoon and his Mum had come back from work. She only worked half days at the weekend, so had come home in time to make her son the ham salad sandwich that was still untouched on it's plate in front of him. She was now at the sink behind him doing the morning's dishes, getting ready for her work mate coming over for dinner.

Though he was supposed to be slowly working his way through the pile of homework he'd been given that weekend, Nick was distracted as he tried to focus on the fractions in front of him. Even with the promise of mindless video games once he was done wasn't keeping his mind on track.

Someone started thumping down the stairs, and Nick looked up from his work to see his Dad dragging a tent and sleeping bag down behind him. His Mum paused drying the glass in her hand to watch her husband wrench the front door open and haul his equipment out and to the car. With a soft sigh she finished with the cup and put it back in the cupboard where it belonged.

He was still packing things into his car when she'd finished, and she took the moment to see how her son was doing with his homework and frowned almost instantly. He'd been sat trying to do the same piece of work for an hour now, yet he hadn't even got half way through the list of thirty questions.

Her boy was usually so good at Maths.

Leaning down, she pecked him on the head and rested a hand on his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense very slightly under her hand before relaxing again, and he looked over his shoulder with a half smile on his face.

She hated herself for it, but she had to force a smile until he looked back at his work again. It wasn't that she didn't love him, but inside she knew his own smile was anything but true. On top of that he looked so like his Father a small amount of disgust welled up inside of her just looking at him.

Watching his Father come back in again, Nickolas dropped his pencil on his papers and pushed his chair away from the table. His Mum didn't try to stop his as he rose to his feet and headed towards the living room. If he couldn't focus, there was no point forcing him to sit there. And she knew from experience he'd be a lot more focused once his Dad was gone.

Though he originally meant to go to his room and read, Nick paused in the hallway to watch his Dad carry a couple of blankets down the steps and out of the still open front door. The man didn't even cast an eye over his family as he did so, and not for the first time he felt anger well up in his stomach.

When he came back in Nickolas watched his Father stake the stairs two at a time, still ignoring his surroundings as he got ready for yet another weekend outing. Both Nick and his Mum were very aware of what he did on these weekend outings, and it didn't involve fishing or races.

It involved girls in short skirts who liked money slipped into their underwear, but they didn't talk about it.

Seeing red his actions barely registered in his mind. He waited until his Dad was jumping down the stairs with the last of his camping gear before slamming the front door shut and standing directly in front of it, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes dark and angry.

At first his Father was taken aback, then his own eyes darkened as he placed his camping stove and lantern on floor before approaching his son. Nick didn't even flinch as his father got closer and closer, raising his head to match the man's glare. He was easily a foot or two taller than his son, and towered over him as he glared threateningly.

Under his stare, he could feel his legs beginning to shake. A movement behind his Father caught his attention, and he noticed his Mum standing behind them with a worried look on her face. Nick wasn't as frightened has he could have been: His Dad was a bastard, but he'd never laid a hand on him.

And he didn't expect him to.

"You're going to make me late, squirt." His Dad said as evenly as he could, his lips cracking into a smile as he lent down and ruffled Nick's slightly long hair. "I'm already running late, and Ralph and Mitchell are going to wonder where I've got to, so how about you move and let your old man finish packing his car, huh?"

When the glare on his son's face didn't lift, and he didn't move out of the way of the door, his Dad's own expression clouded again. He dropped his hand from the boy's head before looked behind him, transferring the look of disgust to his wife.

"Can you move your little brat?" he asked, standing back up straight and striding back to pick up his camping equipment. "Stupid cow can't even control her own child…" he muttered to himself as he stooped down to pick them up, looking back at his wife as he straightened again. "Well? Isn't he supposed to be doing his homework? Make him move!"

A ghost of a fake smile touched her lips, then she turned to her son with an anxious look on her face, motioning for him to get out of the way of the door. Nick's expression softened very slightly as he watched his Mother trying to avoid a confrontation, but he needed to get this off his chest, and he wanted to confirm what he thought he already knew.

It was now or never, and Nick couldn't wait an eternity.

"Don't bullshit," he finally broke the silence, his glare now back in place and aimed at his Dad, who's mouth dropped into an 'o' at the language coming from his son. "I know you don't go fishing! Last week and the week before you left your fishing rod behind, and then you came home that other week smelling like a brothel!"

"Don't you backchat me, you little shit." His Dad threatened as he advanced on his son, the hand holding the lantern curled into a pointed finger he almost poked Nick's eye out with in anger. "You know very well I go fishing at the weekends, your Mother can call my friends and ask them if she's so fucking paranoid she feels she needs to check up on me."

Nick resisted the urge to bite his finger. "I'm not an idiot, Dad! You bring girls home all the time, you always go fishing even when you'd get soaked, you seem to think that just because I'm twelve I cant put two and two together and figure out you're sleeping around with everything with tits!"

The growl that rose from his dad's throat made Nick wonder if he planned to rip his own out, but he tried to look as brave as he could while his Dad attempted to stare him down. Finally, he out the camping gear back down again, and landed a heavy hand onto his son's shoulder.

"One last chance boy," he said in a tone so mild it raised goosebumps on Nick's neck. "Move, or be moved."

Adrenaline was pumping through Nick's little body, and all of his muscles were willing him to either run or his something. His breathing was a little heavy, from fear or excitement he wasn't sure, and his heartbeat was through the roof. It took all of his constraint not to drop to the floor in a gibbering ball and firmly shake his head.

The heavy hand turned into a vice like grip, and Nick stumbled a little as his Dad tried to yank him out of the way. He poured all of his strength into keeping steady, and had a small amount of success in the sense that he only moved a few feet before he got a firm hold of the door handle and cemented himself to it.

The only problem with having a mechanic as a Dad was he was no lightweight. He'd been to the gym once a week for most of his life, and had the muscles to prove it. That meant once he had wrapped his hands around Nick's waist and given him a firm pull there was no chance his own arms were going to be able to withstand the force.

His fingers slipped off of the doorknob, and his Mother gasped as her son was thrown across the room.

Nick hit the banister at the bottom of the stairs head first. The rest of his body caught up pretty quickly and he flopped against the banister, his body limp on the carpet. His Mum couldn't move for the shock, a hand up over her mouth as she her mind contemplated what had just happened.

By the door, his Father looked at his son's crumpled body with glazed eyes. He thought about what he had done, but it didn't really register in his mind that his only son could be dead. Without looking back he picked up the last of the camping equipment and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

It was the door slamming that finally shook his Mum back into action, and she was at her son's side in seconds checking he was alright. Carefully, she turned his head until it was on her knee and stroked his head, tears welling up in her eyes at the blood clotting in his hair. His breathing was a little heavy, but he wasn't breathing too fast, and his started to flutter open as soon as she touched his skin.

"I'm fine, Mum." He said gently, and the tears finally spilled from her eyes and down her cheek. "I thought it would be better if I didn't move until he left…"

She couldn't help but smile a little through the tears, and leant down to kiss his forehead. "I always said you were a clever boy," she said gently, wiping a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Now, lets go get you patched up. I think the homework can wait until tomorrow, don't you?"

Helping him up, she escorted her slightly dizzy son to the sofa before leaving to go and get the medical kit and make some hot chocolate. While he waited, Nick stared blankly at the wall in front of him and held a cushion tightly to his chest.

That day, his Dad confirmed he was sleeping around. It was also the last day Nick spoke to him by choice.


	31. The Picture

**Just to let you know, we now have 100+ alerts and faves on this story. Thank you so much! ^^ I'm so glad people like reading this story. To say thank you a bit later I'll put up a poll so you can decide where you want a pivitol point of the story to go. Since I'm undecided how to do it yet x3 And if you like it so much, you should get a say, right? =3

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**Part 31**

Trudging through the ankle deep snow, Max pulled her hat down over her ears and buried her hands deep inside her pockets. It was Thursday, and although it had snowed virtually non stop the day before only her school had declared both yesterday and today snow days, so she still had to take the other kids to school and pick them up again.

She paused to cross the road, waiting for the green man to tell her it was definitely safe, and looked up at the snow clouds that were still refusing to budge. They'd looked just like that when she walked Fang home two days before, and she frowned very slightly at the memory.

"_Why are they coming to visit?" She'd asked while Fang tried to fish the keys out of his pocket, one crutch leant against the wall. "Short of wanting to rub it in your Mum's face, why would they even want to come up and visit you?"_

_He'd found the key and pushed it into the door, not bothering to turn it yet, and turned back to face her. "Be damned if I know," he'd replied, pushing his now freezing, gloveless fingers into his pocket. "He'll have an excuse, like making sure we're settled or something, but I don't know the real reason."_

_Max had frowned slightly. "You said she said it was important?"_

_He'd snorted, curling his hands into fists in an attempt to keep them warm. "She's a typical teenage girl, Max. Important could mean anything from something drastic happening to having finally found that pair of shoes she's wanted for years."_

_His hand had closed around a piece of paper in his pocket, and Fang had frowned slightly. After all that had happened that day, he'd completely forgotten about the picture he'd planned to give to her. Max had rolled her eyes and folded the gloves she'd leant him, putting them in her jacket pocket once they were small enough._

"_I better leave," she'd stated after doing so, smiling and holding her hand up as a good bye. "I don't want you to get into trouble." She'd turned to leave and began picking her way down the iced steps, but only made it two steps down._

_Fang had watched her take those few steps before tightening his hand on the paper. "Wait," he'd called, and she paused as soon as he spoke, turning on the spot to look at him. She'd raised an eyebrow as he'd pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and smoothed its slightly crumpled state, then held it out to her._

"_This is for you," he'd added simply as she carefully made her way back up the steps to close the distance between them and take the paper. "I meant to give it to you at school, but I could never find the right time…"_

_Once she had it, Max had held the paper like it was made of glass. As delicately as she could with gloves on, she'd unfolded it and smoothed out the lines on its surface._

_She hadn't known what to say as she studied the picture in front of her. Sure, she'd seen how intricate Fang's drawings were in his sketchbook, but she hadn't expected him to giver her any of his sketches. On the paper in front of her was a sketch of a girl looking over her shoulder at the artist. She was sat cross legged on a bed with the pyjamas Fang had caught her in at the door what felt like months ago, one strap of her camisole half way down her arm. She had wide, beautifully detailed eyes that were half covered by shoulder length unruly hair, and she was holding a photo frame with less detailed depictions of her family in her lap. The expression on her face was of surprise, and one hand had come up to pull the camisole strap back to its rightful place._

_Glancing up at Fang, she'd seen him smile at the expression on her face before looking back at the illustration. A few more seconds of silence had followed, until she took a deep breath. "It's me," she'd breathed, looking back up at him again, and was rewarded with another heart melting smile._

"_I hope you like it," he'd replied as he turned the key in the door, balancing all his weight on one crutch to do so. Max smiled as she carefully refolded the paper and slipped it into her jeans, closing the last foot or so between them while Fang was distracted._

_When he'd turned back, his eyebrows had shot up in surprise at how close she was._

"_I love it," she'd whispered, and pressed her lips to his before he could reply. Fang's eyes had fluttered shut almost instantly, the arm he'd used to open the door wrapping around her back as he supported his weight with the other. Max's own arms had ended up around his waist as she pressed her body into his, moving her lips against his for what felt like forever._

_Pulling away, she'd felt like no time had passed at all, yet she knew it had. Fang's eyes had remained shut for a moment longer before they opened slowly, his cheeks flushed pale pink in the winter wind. They'd both smiled at the same time, and stood there staring at each other like idiots for a few minutes until Max had finally broken the silence._

_They said their goodbyes, and Max had headed home with a happy smile on her face, her cheeks still glowing from the cold and the kiss, and her hand in her pocket over the picture nestled there._

Max was smiling by the end of the memory, unaware that the crossing was telling her it was safe to cross, breaking the peaceful afternoon as it beeped loudly. Finally, she realised and jogged across the road as the green man began to flash in warning and continued on towards Iggy's school.

It would be Saturday soon, and she could go visit him while Mike was out, and Max couldn't wait.


	32. Realisations

**For those wondering why Nudge has been an ignored character so far, I'm about to let her make her proper debut into the story. The focus is switching from Max and Fang primarily to Nudge's own little corner too, so here's another chapter for you to readeth.**

**Also, I'm sorry if I havent replied to anyone's reviews. I love them and I try to reply to every single one, but I keep accidentally deleting the emails without thinking So if I've missed you, I appologise, please do keep reading and reviewing =3

* * *

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**Part 32**

It was Saturday morning, but it was more important than that. The Martinez household was alive with activity as children and adult alike scurried downstairs to set out the presents they'd gathered for one of the family members.

That Saturday was special because it was Iggy's birthday.

Though she had completely forgotten about it in the meantime, Max had made arrangements for her own present to her younger brother. She stood in the doorway, holding a coffee and smiling, as Iggy ripped open present after present, running his hands over them and having wild guesses as what they were until the kids would erupt in fits of giggles and tell him.

They knew he was blind, but to Angel and Gasman it was a game. Of course Max guided them to cheap presents they could get their brother: Plushies and the occasional Braille book if they had a few extra dollars to spare. None of them were that useful to him, but he took it in his stride as he proclaimed the elephant plushie in his hands _had _to be a tin of baked beans.

He was the comedian. Making light of his disability until they were too old to find it funny.

It was seven in the morning by the time Iggy had identified all of his presents. Max downed the rest of her coffee as she watched him and Angel pretend the mug he got was a boat and they seated the elephant in it. Gasman started guiding it through the sea of carpet to the Isle of Telly when Max took her mug to the kitchen.

She and her Dad had decided on something big for Iggy's birthday, but it wasn't in the house. As she rinsed her mug out she wondered how she was going to get Iggy to agree to leave the house and go on a trip with her in the freezing cold weather.

Though, he probably would if he was told there was a present at the end.

* * *

With Mike going out that afternoon, he wasn't going to be drinking much for the rest of the day. That meant that Nadia ventured from her room to see the happy, loving Dad she'd known as a small child. The Father that used to take her shopping and buy them ice creams for breakfast on a Sunday.

She pulled on a thick pair of tights and stood up, straightening her knee length denim strappy dress over the thin, white jumper she was wearing beneath it. She pulled the sleeves down a little and studied herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her unruly, curly dark hair before smiling at her reflection and sitting on the edge of her bed to pull on a pair of calf-length boots.

As a young teenager she was perceptive beyond her years and had been around enough people's houses to know how her dad treated both her step mother was not normal. She was aware that his relationship with alcohol was not normal either, and resented the stuff, wouldn't touch it when he friends offered it to her.

Good for her, too. Since she wasn't old enough to drink it anyway.

She slipped her Ipod into her pocket and glanced up at the mirror from the bed, the smile torn from her lips and sadness playing in her eyes. Sure, Nancy was nice, and her son could be friendly enough when she spoke to him, but it wasn't the same.

Gazing down she pushed the sleeve of her jumper up just a little to reveal a bracelet, still a little too big for her. The sadness echoing in her eyes deepened as she ran her fingers along the green and orange beads, some of them chipped and a couple missing, but she'd never dream of replacing it. Not in a million years.

This bracelet had been her Mother's.

Nadia closed her eyes and remembered, involuntarily, the last day she had seen her Mother. She had been five years old and very tired when she came home from school, so her Mum had put her down in her parent's bed and told her to try and get some sleep.

This wasn't abnormal for Nadia, since she had been very susceptible to illnesses as a young girl and often came home tired and cranky. The little girl had gone to sleep almost instantly without a worry in the world, looking forwards to the cup of cordial her Mother would bring her when she woke up and dreaming of the beach, where she and her dad were going at the weekend.

Upon waking, she found her Mother's bracelet on the pillow next to her. Her Dad had helped her pick it out for Mother's day the year before, and it was still in pristine condition. Had she been older, or even a little more awake, her intelligent mind might have noticed that it had been placed on a damp towel.

She might have even seen the dot of blood on the towel, but she didn't.

Picking the bracelet up, she studied it with confused eyes before slipping it onto her wrist, sitting up and rubbing her eyes before looking about the room. It was still dark, the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun and the door pulled to.

"Mum?" she called as loud as her lungs would allow, swinging her legs off of the bed and slipping almost silently down onto the plush carpet. There was light peeking through the crack in the door and her mum wasn't usually far away, in the next room doing the washing, but she got no answer.

She pulled the door open a little further, the artificial orange light flooding her face. The hallway had always looked so much vaster when she was little, and this time was no exception, the line of doors seeming unending to her small eyes. She stepped out onto the cream carpet, still holding onto the doorframe of her parent's bedroom.

"Mum?" she tried again, this time a little quieter. With still no response, she finally let go of the doorframe and padded out into the hallway, heading for the only open door, which was the bathroom.

Maybe she was in there.

As she neared the open door, Nadia slowed her stride and shivered. Her Mother never had a bath in the middle of the day, she believed it to be a way to release the day's tension in the evening. On top of that she usually had some soothing music on low, yet there was no sound coming from the open doorway. It was eerily quiet, and Nadia didn't want to go in there anymore.

"Mum?" she tried one last time, just a few feet from the bathroom door. The front door slammed, signalling her Father's return, but it didn't register. With no response she took a few steps into the doorway, not sure why her little heart was racing. "I'm hungry Mum, when are you making dinner?"

Even if she tried, it wasn't likely her mind would have been able to make sense of the scene in front of her. It took many years of thought and counselling to get to grips with what she saw, and even come to terms with why it might have happened. When little Nadia stepped into the doorway, she'd immediately felt sick and scared, and ran out screaming for Dad.

Nadia's Mother was laying in the bathtub in still warm water, as if she were just having a bath, but you didn't have to look closely to understand it was anything but. She was still fully dressed, and the material floated slightly in the opaque water. She was slumped against the back with her mouth and nose just under water, her eyes staring at the wall opposite, glassy and unresponsive. Around her the water was dyed a red pink, the slits in her wrists finally unable to lose any more life fluid from lack of pressure from her heart.

Her Mother was dead, but Nadia didn't fully understand.

The police decided the death was a suicide, and no post mortem was carried out due to the almost blindingly obvious cause of death. She was cremated just days after her death and Nadia scattered them across the park the very next day, under the supervision of her grief struck Father. It was a tragedy, and it was wiped over as quickly as the media would allow.

Through her primary and even her current High school Nadia had been to a psychologist once a week, every week. She was given the newspaper clippings of her Mother's death and talked about her feeling until she really thought she had some kind of closure on the matter.

Some of the things she thought, however, were never mentioned.

Nadia never understood why her mother would commit suicide. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense to her. Now she thought back to her young age, pushing past the mental barriers her brain had cast up against finding her Mother dead, she remembered the unexplained bruises her Mum always seemed to acquire. Always claiming she was bumping into things, that she needed glasses.

This was backed up by the bruises and abuse her Father was inflicting on her Step Mother, and inside her suspicion was beginning to grow. Her Mother may have been beaten and bullied, but Nadia was sure she would never just leave her child to grow up with such a man without her.

One of the newspaper clippings mentioned that almost all the clothes both she and her unnamed child owned were packed and by the front door. This brought to light the idea that the woman was trying to escape from something, but with the body already cremated and every friend of her Father's claiming her was a decent, honest man who wouldn't hurt a fly, any case that could have been build was dropped before it even made a report.

Her eyes now open, the tears were long gone. Within her own mind Nadia was constructing her own case against the man she called Father by blood, and felt sickened his blood ran in her veins. Hardly anything of his story seemed to add up anymore, and she was beginning to understand what had happened all too well.

But to make it look like a suicide, that was a new low.

Tearing her eyes from her reflection, Nadia rummaged in her purse and pulled out her phone. She no longer had the desire to spend time with Mike, and instead flicked through her contacts until she found the one girl she could talk about this with.

The girl was in Nick's year, but they had been friends since Nadia had first entered the school. She stood from the bed as she pressed 'Call' and swung the bag over her shoulder, taking another second to study her appearance in the mirror and remove the tear lines with a tissue.

"Hey Madison," she answered her friends voice as cheerily as her current thoughts would allow, stepping out into the hallway and shutting her bedroom door behind her. She let her friend ramble for a few seconds as she walked to the stairs, not really listening but waiting until she'd finished talking about her friend's almost boyfriend before adding: "Are you free? I really need someone to talk to right now."


	33. Memories

**A short update this time, since my braind ecided to stop working after I finished this half. Hopefully the next bit wont be too long .-.**

**Part 33**

Jumping the last few steps, Nadia dropped her bag on the bottom stair and took her coat from the banister, throwing the heavy material around her shoulders and slipping her arms into their sleeves as she walked towards the living room.

Mike never left the house until one or two in the afternoon on Saturdays, and today was no exception. He was slouched across the sofa with the remote in his oversized hand, staring blankly at the flickering images on the television screen, so enthralled he didn't see his daughter flick her hair over the collar of her coat right beside him and wait for him to notice her.

It was Nancy, seated on the edge of the armchair reading a magazine, that noticed her first. She smiled warmly at her Step Daughter and closed the magazine in her lap, and a wave on an emotion Nadia didn't recognise flooded her system, something close to nausea.

She shook it away and returned the smile. None of this was Nancy's fault.

"Maddy invited me over," she lied, noticing her Dad finally look up at her in the corner of her eye. She didn't look back but instead she held her Step Mother's gaze as she did up her snow white coat, pulling a pair of power pink gloves from the pockets. "I wont be staying the night, though. What time do you want me home?"

Nancy opened her mouth, but a quick glance at Mike told her she should know better. Her smile fell, and she lowered her head and eyes to look at the magazine in her hands, half-heartedly flicking it open and resuming the article she had been reading.

"You can be back whenever you want," her Father's voice came from behind her, but Nadia didn't look round. She was waiting for Nancy to look up at her, at the sorrow and apology in her eyes, but she had been trained too well and didn't dare. "Hang on a minute and I'll give you a lift."

The sofa groaned as he moved to pull his bulk up, and Nadia span on the spot, a fake smile on her lips. "It's fine Daddy," she said. He blinked and flopped his weight back onto the material, keeping eye contact with his usually obliging daughter. "The walk would do me good. I never walk anywhere."

Mike snorted. "Don't you go turning into one of those kids that only eat celery. Not good for you." Nadia nodded to reassure him she wouldn't, but his attention was already back on the television as he spoke. "Get Nick to walk you. Lazy sod never does anything."

That had his wife looking up, concern for her still injured boy written across her face. He'd had a check up with the Doctor a day before, and his leg wasn't healing as well as the physician had hoped. He was told to stay on at least one crutch for another week, and was in no fit state to be walking miles to Nadia's friend's houses.

But a look from Mike silenced her, and Nadia frowned.

"Sure," she lied as she pulled on her power pink hat, knowing all too well he wouldn't hear her. His focus was back on the television, his mind lost in the football match playing on their widescreen plasma TV. "I'll ask him."

She shot the worried looking Nancy a soft look, trying to convey that she wasn't going to ask him to walk her, and it seemed to get through. The woman relaxed a little and smiled wearily, stealing a glance at her husband before casting her eyes back at the magazine.

Nadia gazed at her for a few more seconds, turning the page of her magazine so carefully it didn't make a sound. Living with Mike had physically aged her more than ever, the wrinkles that used to be just shallow lines now etched into her skin around her eyes and mouth.

She felt sick again, but this time it was pity.

With that she turned and grabbed her bag from the hall, not even bothering to go upstairs and bother Nick. Since he'd gotten his sketch pad back he was usually found in his room doing some sketch or other. He'd said he was half a sketchbook behind on the rest of the class, and needed to catch up, nut the look he'd sent her when he said it relayed it was also an excuse to stay in his room, out of the way.

_Don't blame him, _Nadia thought as she closed the back door behind her, her nose almost instantly turning to ice in the chilly weather. The wind was blowing, scatting flakes of snow from the ground up and around her ankles in little whirlwinds as she navigated the slippery steps to their front door and headed down the driveway.

Walking through the snow with just her own thoughts for company, memories of her Mother kept flashing in front of her eyes. She trudged through the snow drifts, scattering them as with kicks as she tried to remember as much detail possible about the night her Mother died.

That was the trick: What she remembered, not what she'd been _told_.

Her memories were foggy, being just five years of age, but the psychologist had helped her remember much of that afternoon already. She'd taught her a technique to remember details her brain was shutting out and she stopped on the pathway to impliment it, eyes closed and breathing slow and steady as she tried to cast her mind back.

She was five again, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her Mother dead in the bathtub. The smell of blood slowly came back to her nostrils, and the little girl shook with fear and misunderstanding. Sickness started to rise in her throat, but the desire to leave was so much stronger than the drive to vomit.

Little Nadia ran from the bathroom to the stairs, screaming for her Dad. Her brain remembered a door closing, he just had to be home, and she almost toppled down the stairs in her panic to find the one person she could seek comfort in.

He didn't come running to her, or ask her what was wrong. He strode out of the kitchen drying his hands on a tea towel, his face blank and unemotional as he looked down at his panicked little girl. When she saw him she screamed out again, running to him and clinging to his leg for comfort and support.

It took Mike a few seconds to click back into reality, yet it seemed to jump on him rather than creep in. He dropped the towel to the floor and scooped up the blubbering little girl in his arms, soothing her as her tears stained his shirt. Nadia looked up at him, his face now written with sorrow, the odd way he was acting a few seconds before blown away in the events that followed.

Police cars turned up just moments later, summoned by Mike himself after he found his wife in the tub. Reports written by the authorities, which came out the day his wife was cremated, stated he sounded very calm on the phone. This was put down to trauma numbing his senses by a psychiatrist, evidentially the best one in town and paid by Mike once the please asked for a psychological evaluation.

Nudge had never seen these reports, just clippings of them in the newspapers her psychologist provided her with on their sessions. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, escaping from the life she'd unconsciously tried to forget. Her legs were shaking, and tears had streamed down her cheeks, but she felt much stronger than she had in a long time.

She knew the truth, she was sure of it.

Still in a slight daze from her travel into the past, Nudge forgot to check the road was clear before stepping out onto the tarmac. A car horn blared, and she swung her head to see the headlights of a car coming towards her faster than it should be on snow. The vehicle slammed its brakes on, but the wheels skidded and the car began to swerve all over the road.

She barely felt any pain before her head hit the ground.


	34. Puppies and Paramedics

**Part 34**

Although they left at nine, it took longer than Max expected to get to their destination. An hour's bus ride and twenty minutes of picking their way through ice and snow, she and Iggy finally arrived at the destination.

The town hall.

The building was used for a lot of things, including a free, government run kindergarten all the kids had attended one time or another, usually taken by their Dad's current carer, since they usually had cars. Now they were all in school, they never visited the place anymore, but other functions also went on here.

As she led Iggy through the front door, she smiled at the woman who held the door open for them. She was shorter than Max, maybe only five feet tall and rather pudgy, but she had a friendly smile. She gave Max's back a gentle pat as she walked past and closed the door silently behind them.

"Here we are," Max stated as she led Iggy into the main hall, a room no larger than twenty feet square. It felt colder in the old brick building than it did outside, and she could see her breath in front of her face as they made their way to the back of the hall.

Least they wouldn't be here long.

"It's freezing in here," Iggy observed, rubbing his hands together as he followed Max blindly. "What are we here for?"

Guiding him to the floor, Max flopped against the wall beside him and finally unhooked her arm from his. Both teens pushed their hands between their knees to warm them up. "I already told you. We're here for your birthday present."

Looking up, Max smiled at thee woman on the other side of the hall. She had opened the door into the main hall just enough to see around it, and her leg was stuck across the bottom of the opening. Iggy frowned and looked up as well.

"Who's whining?" he asked, looking almost directly at the smiling woman. "Where are we?"

Max nodded to her, and the woman pulled her leg from the gap and slipped back behind the door. There was a few seconds silence. Iggy lifted his head up and turned an ear towards the door, frowning as he strained to hear the whining again.

Instead he was met by the patter of paws on floor.

He opened his mouth to ask something, but he didn't get the chance to say anything before five puppies descended on him and his sister, covering any exposed skin in licks and wet noses as they scrambled for attention. Iggy was almost knocked sideways as a particularly chubby pup called Truffle launched itself onto his lap and began to lick his face and neck.

Carefully, Max picked up the small puppy sat next to her, it's little fluffy tail going crazy. It had been pawing at her side for a few seconds, but was no where near as bouncy as the others. Studying it she noticed it had a smaller frame than the others, and was a little skinnier.

She gave the pup, Toffee, a tickle behind the ear, and she murred.

It was hard for the woman across the room not to smile at the pair as they pampered her puppies, trying to give them all the attention they clambered for. The dogs were about eighteen months old now, give or take, and half way though their training, but the harsh routine had yet to take the puppy out of them.

Max smiled at Iggy as he laughed and tried to keep the chubby puppy in his lap at bay. It had its front paws on his collarbone and was happily licking his ear, which Iggy was finding hard to avoid, as the puppy was taking great joy in following his head when he tried to evade the wet, slightly sandpaper-like tongue.

She decided she would wait a bit longer to explain, until he asked why they'd been bombarded with puppies, and went back to scratching her little puppy behind her ears. Toffee tilted her head to the side and her eyes glazed over a little, her back leg twitching uncontrollably as Max scratched a bundle of nerves.

By the end of the day, one of these puppies would have Iggy's name on it. It was about time he got a guide dog.

**

* * *

**

As an ambulance blared down the road, Nancy looked up from her magazine and watched the flashing lights whiz past their window. It wasn't uncommon for accidents to happen in their city, but not many of them occurred down their road. A small smile touched her lips, just for a second, before she looked back down at her magazine.

At least they lived in a safe street, her and her son. Even if the house itself was anything but.

Upstairs, Fang looked up from his sketchbook as the siren blared, telling cars to get out of the way. It was the first one he'd heard actually go down his street since they moved here, but it didn't mean anything to him, and soon he was back at work on his newest picture.

The ambulance screeched to a halt just a mile from their house, the paramedics jumping out of the doors before the vehicle had even stopped. On the side of the road and surrounded by people was a shaken up looking teenager, a towel around his shoulders and a woman rubbing his arm as she watched the paramedics do their thing.

The young lad had been the one driving the car. He'd been going too fast for the icy conditions, and had been terrified of hitting the girl as she stepped out in front of him. He jammed his breaks on, but to his horror his wheels just locked and he skidded about on the icy, ungritted road.

After hitting her his car had slid a little way with Nadia trapped beneath it, dragging her like a rag doll while one of the wheels crushed her arm. He'd been trying to wake the girl and having a panic attack when a kindly neighbour, the one now rubbing his arm comfortingly, had called 911 and then rushed out to tend to them both.

Deeming she could do nothing for the girl, she'd taken to calming the hysterical teen down instead.

With the towel around his shoulders warming his frozen shoulders, the teenager was beginning to relax. He was still shaking, and had a cigarette clamped tightly between his quaking fingers as he watched the ambulance crew carefully move the crumpled girl from the floor and get her into the back of the van.

Once she was safely strapped in, one of the paramedics walked over to him and the kindly woman, the hat he usually wore in his hands. The boy's heart rate began to rise again at the solemn look on the guy's face.

"How is she?" The neighbour asked, a hand gently massaging the boys shoulder. The paramedic looked at the snow for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, looking the woman in the eyes.

"She's unconscious, and has a wound on her head. Her right arm is fractured in numerous places, but her breathing is regular and her heartbeat is strong." He explained, and the woman nodded. He dropped his eyes to the teen next to her, who looked up at him with worry in his eyes. The man smiled and laid his own hand on the lad's shoulder.

"Unless she contracts a virus in the next twenty four hours she should be walking out of the hospital within a week." He added, trying to reassure him. "The police will want to talk to you both, and this young lady when she waked up."

The woman squeezed the lad's shoulder, pulling his eyes to hers. "Come on," she said gently, nodding towards her house with her head. "You come and have a cup of tea, and we'll call your folks and let them know where you are, ok?"

The bewildered teen looked back at the paramedic, his smile still encouraging, before he finally pulled himself to his feet and followed the woman up her driveway. He took one glance back at the paramedic and the ambulance, but he was already jumping in the back of the van while the driver started it up. He paused in the doorway to watch the vehicle speed off, and sickness rose in his throat.

If he'd killed her, he'd never forgive himself.


	35. Recovery

_I dont have the original documents anymore, so I couldnt scan for it, so I forgot if I gave Mike and Nadia a surname or not . I gave them one here, but if you remember seeing one or come across one at any point before this, could you please message me so I can fix it._

_Also, does anyone know a way to get the writing off of here and into a word document? Microsoft works wont let me copy and paste, so I currently have none of the original story on my computer...Thanks._

**Recovery**

A stretcher charged up the ramp at the back of the hospital and through the doors into Accident and Emergency, barely pausing to allow a nurse to remove the girl's bag that had been placed next to her head on the makeshift bed. The girl herself was still unconscious, her mocha skin a little paler than it should have been, and her right arm being held across her stomach by a paramedic.

They had been expecting her since they got a call about fifteen minutes ago. A couple of doctors had scrubbed up and prepared a surgery room for her, where she would have pins placed in her arm to hold the bones steady while they re-set themselves. That was where she was headed now, even though she was still to regain consciousness.

If they didn't act quickly the bone would try to reset itself, and they would have to break it again.

The nurse took the girl's bag to the nurse's station and placed it on her desk, sitting down before she flipped it open. She ruffled through the many contents of the little blue bag until she found what she was looking for: A purse.

Though it would be much easier to identify patients, they were not allowed to use a patient's mobile phone while they were not conscious. The rules stated they had to ask permission to go through a mobile phone, and that meant in many accident cases it could take several days to identify the victims than the few seconds it would take to find a contact labelled 'mother' or 'father' in their mobile address book.

Even so, this girl was carrying I.D. It was a discount card for under eighteen's for the bus, and had a photograph and a name to confirm it's owner. Now it was just a matter of inserting the name into the computer system, and her records and contact numbers would be brought up onto the screen.

Maybe not as efficient as a mobile, but it worked.

The nurse, Wanda, pressed the 'external calls' button on the phone on her desk, then tapped in the number for the girl's Father, the only relative listed on her file. As the phone rang she cast her eyes over to the surgery the girl had been wheeled into, whispering a silent prayer for a safe surgery as she waited for the girl's Father to pick up.

XoXoX

Nadia had never felt so terrible.

The first thing she became aware of when she woke was the incredible pain in her arm and head. Both of them where thumping with pain, but her arm was worse. It felt as if it had been through a crusher, every nerve ending screaming out for some kind of pain relief.

Instead of opening her eyes, she screwed them shut against the pain and let out a small whimper. The bright lights around her were shining through her eyelids, casting a yellow hue on the blackness inside her head. She tried to pull herself upright with her other arm, but instantly regretted it as every muscle in her body strained and ached with the movement.

"It's alright, Nadia." she heard a voice say, and a cool hand touched the back of her hand as she slipped back down to her original position. She tried to regulate her breathing and calm herself down but the deep breaths seemed to be making her panic even more, especially as she hadn't recognised the voice next to her.

Finally, after two failed attempts, she managed to get her eyes open to slits. None of the lights were directly above her, but the glare was disrupting her vision as she tried to focus her tired eyes on the ceiling she was now gazing at. It was high and pale cream, and there was a curtain rail going around her like a bubble, the curtains shut, keeping her from the outside world.

_I'm in hospital?_ she though, blinking against the glare of the lights, trying to open her eyes more and more with each one. _What happened?_

"Can you hear me?" the voice asked, and Nadia squinted in concentration. Maybe she did recognise that voice, it was beginning to sound familiar, but try as she might she couldn't put a face to it. She opened her mouth to answer, to say a simple 'yes', but she couldn't get the words to form in her throat. A gargled cough was all she could manage, and the hand clasped hers a little tighter.

She didn't feel like she had the energy to turn her head.

"Go find a nurse," said another voice, and this one she definitely recognised. Without even thinking she turned her head to her right, and a feeling of relief flooded her system when she set eyes on her Father. He was facing another boy that Nadia couldn't quite recognise, but she was sure she'd seen him before. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his dark hair flat and unstyled against his head. In a less fuzzy condition, she would have frowned at the bright, new bruise he sported on his left eye.

The boy, who looked a little older than herself, she noted, stood from his own seat andslipped his hands into the crutches that were resting against his chair. She sent Nadia a worried glance before slipping through the curtains, taking a second to stop and pull them shut behind him.

Her Father turned to look at her directly and she managed a smile when he leaned forwards and stroked her cheek, even if it was a little strained with pain. She opened her mouth again and concentrated on forming the words in her head, finally managing to get out them out. Her voice was thick and drowsy, almost as if she were drunk, and the concern on her Father's face grew.

"Wha' 'appn'd?" she'd struggled to get out.

"You were in an accident," said the voice on the other side of the bed, their hand now stroking the back of Nadia's soothingly. Very slowly, she turned her head in the pillow to look at her other side. Beside her was a woman she couldn't recognise or name, though again she had the feeling she'd seen her before. She assumed she was a nurse, or maybe a teacher at her school, but none of those seemed right to her. "You…you were hit by a car, Nadia."

Nadia frowned. She didn't remember being hit by a car, or even being in a near accident. Ever. She turned her head to look at her Father again, the only familiar thing to her fuzzy mind, and sent him a questioning look. She wanted him to say there was a mistake, and to wake up, but he simply nodded his head slowly as he took in his broken daughter,

Though she had come off very well for being hit by a car, Nadia was not in good shape physically. Her right arm had been broken in many places and was wrapped in a thick plaster cast, the metal pins holding her shattered arm together just poking out of the plain white, rock hard material. On top of that she had tarmac burns down the right hand side of her cheek and neck, and her bottom lip was swollen and split.

Seeing his beautiful girl so battered and bruised made Mike very angry, and he clenched his fists at his sides when Nadia looked back at the ceiling, taking in what she was being told. The last thing she remembered was going to school the morning her Father was due to marry the woman he'd told her about, and being very excited she was about to get a new mother and be a bridesmaid.

Then she'd woken up here, bruised and battered. None of it made sense to her.

One of the curtains was pulled away, and everyone looked up to watch the bruised boy hobble back into the family's bubble of confusion and retake his seat next to Mike. Behind him, a doctor smoothed the curtain back against the corner of the booth before moving to pick up Nadia's chart from the end of her bed, yet to acknowledge anyone at all.

Instantly, Mike didn't like him. He was very skinny and poorly built, with thin rimmed, round glasses balanced precariously on his nose. The white coat he was wearing swamped his tiny frame but hung short on his wrists, not quite reaching his hands when they hung by his sides. He wasn't wearing a name badge either, and his short blonde hair was spiked straight up with gel.

Nick and his mother exchanged glances while Mike stared the young lad down, seemingly on the edge of kicking off for some reason or other. When the doctor finally looked up from Nadia's notes his face was grim as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. He asked Mike and Nancy to step outside with him and quickly closed the curtains behind him, concern written across his face.

"Mr. Mustofa," he stated grimly, looking the man in the eyes. "As I'm sure you're already aware, your daughter's accident has resulted in a broken arm as well as the mild disfigurement of her face…"

Something close to a growl rumbled up from Mike's throat, and Nancy swallowed hard, keeping her composure next to her easily angered husband. "Mild disfigurement?" he spat, holding the agitatingly calm doctor's gaze as he threw a hand in his daughter's direction, "Have you _seen_ her face? She looks like she was dragged across hot coals!"

"Sir, if I may continue," the doctor added when he had finished, tapping the back of the chart still in his hands. "There are more concerning prognoses with your daughter's health than skin that will heal. While she has no internal bleeding, we took scans of her head because of the external bleeding that was noticed in the ambulance. The nature of the bruising suggests not only did she hit her head on the road, but she also hit the other side on the bonnet of the car with a great force. I'm sorry to tell you that she may have suffered some brain damage."

Her Father seemed to reel. "Brain damage?" he repeated, blinking at the doctor as he nodded sorrowfully. "She seemed fine when we were talking to her."

"Brain damage can come in many forms, Mr. Mustofa." The doctor flipped the front page of Nadia's chart over to look at the second, which was scrawled with notes from other doctors and nurses around two scans. "While some have to learn to walk and talk again, others just lose a part of their memory. It is also common for such problems to alleviate themselves, almost spontaneously, while others persist for life."

Nancy's eyes widened. "She seemed to look right through me, when she woke." She informed the doctor, unaware of the slight glare Mike was giving her for insinuating his daughter was damaged. "Like she didn't know me."

The doctor nodded once again, taking a pen from his pocket and scrawling something down. "It is very probable that she has lost her memory, as her other functions seem to remain intact. We want to keep her in for a few days and run a few more tests, to check the extent of the damage."

"And what if she lost her memory?" Mike interjected, taking his gaze from Nancy to look back at the doctor. "She remembered me just fine. What is she likely to have forgotten? And how can we make her better?"

The doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose. "It is likely she has lost a certain timeframe, rather than specific memories. She may have forgotten the events of the last year, or it may just be the last two weeks or the last month." He looked at Nancy for some kind of acknowledgement of understanding, and she was nodding slowly, remembering both she and Nick had only been in Nadia's life for about a month.

He looked back at Mike. "As for getting her back to normal, she might have forgotten those events forever, but you can try and help her remember. Take her to places and show her photos, try and get her mind to recall what happened there or on that day."

"And that will fix her?" He asked, looking past the doctor worriedly at his daughters cubicle. The doctor dropped the notes to his side and shook his head sadly.

"She might never remember," he said sadly. "But it's worth a try."


	36. The Right Direction

**Yeah, so, As any of you who have any of my other stories in their alerts may have noticed, I'm not actually dead. After we got robbed my plot bunnies did a runner and left me with no direction, no desire and no ability to write. Now, with the luring of copious amounts of carrot cake and the promise of a party, the bunnies are back!**

**Let the fics roll on once more!**

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* * *

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**The Right Direction**

Watching the world pass her by, Nadia sighed and leant her head against the many pillows piled against the headboard, staring longingly at the layers and layers of snow that dusted every surface beyond her private suite. Behind her, her therapist smoothed his shirt and tie against his chest and placed his briefcase between his legs.

"It's been twenty four hours since the accident," the old man reminded her, and Nadia flinched involuntarily. Dr Mareo was an immigrant from Spain. He had travelled to America with his parents when he was just a child and, as a result, had almost completely lost both his accent and his native tongue. He leant forwards in his chair and tried to get a look at her face, but half of it was buried in a mountain of pillows.

He leant back in his plastic chair, fidgeting uncomfortably before continuing: "What do you remember?"

Lost in a dreamy state, Nadia was effectively drowning out the overpaid man behind her to focus on the world beyond her hospital bubble. The whisper of robin calls floated through the barely open window as the sun beat down on the snow, the light reflected almost blinding on the piles shovelled away from the stairs to the main entrance. These had been gritted too, but many parts of the steps remained treacherously icy and threatened to upturn many a visitor hurrying to their beloved.

"Nadia?" The psychotherapist tried again, a flutter of hopefulness shooting through his heart as she sluggishly turned to look at him. She cringed as she lifted her plastered arm, the metal screws holding the bones in place poking out of the cast, onto her stomach before turning her head in his direction.

The man reached for his briefcase. "The doctors tell me the memory loss is not as severe as they thought it would be," he reassured his young patient as he unclipped his case and flipped it open. Though this would put her therapy back almost four complete stages, it could have been a lot worse. "They tell me it's confined to the last month, is this correct?"

After a short pause, Nadia nodded, and the old man smiled at her encouragingly before returning to rifling through his many papers. He had brought all of the material they had used in the last month with him, but seeing her current state he'd quickly decided reminding her of the news articles and her mother's death may not be the best approach to getting her back on her feet.

Instead, he produced four photos, closing the case and tidying the tiny collection into a neat pile before meeting her eyes again. She was staring at the back of the photo pile, the plain white back of the last one, intently. Recognition cards was a frequent exercise is Dr. Mareo's sessions, though they didn't usually involved photographs but ink splodges. Without a moment's hesitation, he flipped the first photo over.

Recognition shone across her face. She smiled at the photo, and without being prompted, said "Dad."

The psychologist smiled as well, tucking this photo at the back of the pile. "Seems like the Doctor's were right, since this is a very recent photo." He neatened the pile again, tapping the photos gently on the bench to line the edges up. Though he was a therapist he had issues of his own, obsessive compulsion to tidiness being one of them. He glanced up at Nadia, meeting her eyes for a few seconds, before flipping the next photo.

The teenage girl frowned, which the therapist mirrored as he held the photo out to her. Though she took it and studied it carefully, after a few minutes contemplation she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head sadly, holding it at arm's reach for Dr. Mareo to take back. He did so almost immediately and waited for Nadia to meet his eyes again.

"Who is he?" The young girl asked, curling her left hand into a fist, fighting back tears of frustration. She had been doing this kind of therapy about her Mother for years in the practitioner's office, but it was still as hard as it had always been.

Dr. Mareo turned the photograph back to face her. It was an olive skinned boy in his late teens, long dark bangs cut just above his chocolate brown eyes. He was in a uniform she did not recognise and, as hard as she tried, she didn't remember anything about him.

The psychologist glanced down at the picture, then back at his patient. "This is Nickolas, or Nick." He stated evenly, his tone of voice automatically dropping into a soothing, soft tone. "Do you remember your Father's remarriage?"

Nadia looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, squinting at a tile. "Vaguely," she whispered. "I was a bridesmaid..?"

She smiled when the man smiled and nodded, glad she hadn't forgotten everything. "He married this boy's Mother, a lady by the name of Nancy." He packed the photo behind that of her Father and flipped over the next one, revealing a woman who barely resembled the boy at all. Her hair was a lighter brown and her face rounder and kinder. She wore a wide smile on her face and a large, oversized summer hat.

The teen's eyes opened a little wider. "Nancy!" She said more with surprise and recognition. "She was in the hospital room when I woke up! I remember her! She was holding a great bouquet of blue and white flowers at the wedding…I held them for her while she made her vows to Dad…"

Gazing up at the wall, she smiled to herself as the events of that day came back to her. There was a horse drawn carriage and a church filled with flowers matching Nancy's bouquet. Very few people came to the wedding, it was almost like a secret, but the crowd were so happy, and Nancy had looked so beautiful.

She frowned. "I wonder why Nick wasn't there," she thought aloud, looking back at her psychoanalyst for guidance. He was, however, unable to offer any, and instead just smiled encouragingly as he prepared to turn the last photo over.

She had forgotten so much, it seemed, but not all was lost yet. If just a picture of Nancy made her remember so much about the woman, then there was a chance he could pull the same trick with yet another one. He hesitated slightly, causing the teen to frown even further, before flipping the final picture over.

Nadia could not have been more surprised - in his hand was a picture of her Mother Nadia had never seen before, though now she was sure video clips of the short time their lives overlapped began to play behind her eyes.

"You need to remember, Nadia." Dr. Mareo stated, his sudden seriousness taking Nadia off guard when she met his eyes. "For Nancy and Nick's sake, you need to remember."


	37. Another Monday

**Well, I tried to comment on all my reviews here and then make a spew about complacent plot bunnies not getting any more carrot cake, but apparently fanfiction doesnt want to let we waffle because it randomly decided to delete it all. So here is another chapter for you. Sorry to any reviewers who ddint get a reply, but I deleted the emails as I went and can no longer remember how many of you are awaiting one. I promise to review next time, when Fanfiction isnt messing with me.**

**So, here's another update. And a cliffy! YAY.**

**Another Monday**

It was about one in the morning when Angel had crawled into Max's bed, careful not to wake her older sister as she did so. She didn't need comforting or consoling, she just wanted the company after yet another nightmare plagued her sleep. The little girl didn't fall sleep again, however, and laid staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

That was, until 3.30am.

It was at this time that Max began to twitch and mumble in her sleep. It drew Angel's attention from the ceiling to her sister, who she could see rather clearly since her eyes were well adjusted to the lack of light. Her face was creased up in either anger or fear and she continued to twitch violently, occasionally mumbling or squeaking in her sleep.

Angel had never seen her sister have a nightmare before, and it scared her a little. After a few seconds of witnessing it, the young girl was shaking her sister's arm and trying to pull her out of it, already too aware of how horrible nightmares could be. Max was, however, completely out of it, and nothing the girl did could rouse her from her slumber.

Eventually, Angel gave up and left her elder sister alone, uncomfortable watching Max go though something she knew was horrible to experience. Instead she settled in the dim light of the hall, a couple of Gasman's toy cars in hand, and proceeded to re-enact a bank robbery she'd seen on television.

oOoOo

It was almost 4.00am when Max bolted upright in bed, holding her heart and blinking into the darkness. Her breathing was fast and raspy, her body shaking, and it took a few seconds for her to calm down enough be bale to click on the bedside lamp to light the gloom.

She leant her elbows on her knees and rubbed her eyes slowly, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. Every muscle in the body was twitching like crazy, she could feel it, and her blood was hot with anxiety. Eventually, after ten minutes of monitoring her breathing and thoughts, Max was calm enough to flip her alarms off, get out of bed and head off to do her morning chores.

She hated dreaming about her Mother. She _really_ hated it.

With a sigh she slipped her feet into her slippers and padded down the stairs, leaving her lamp on as a guiding light for anyone that was already awake as well. She put a pot of coffee on and unloaded the washing machine, staggering with the basket into the living room to hang it on the clothes horse.

The chores would take her mind off things, she had decided. But they really didn't.

With one cup of coffee already being cared for in her stomach, Max flipped the coffee machine on for one more run on her way past taking the folded laundry upstairs. It was getting on for 7am and, with all of the chores except the packing away of clothes completed, it was a good excuse to kick all the kids out of bed so they wouldn't be late today.

She was still waiting for some kind of payback from Damien and his crew too, but they seemed to have forgotten about it after she kicked their guts out a few days before. Her mind was running away as she thought about them ganging up on her while she was alone, and what they might do to her, and she shuddered slightly as her first foot hit the landing. She couldn't afford to be as disabled as Fang had been.

Could they take the kids away if she was disabled?

Her next foot didn't touch the landing, but rather a small plastic car of Gasman's that was rather well camouflaged by the dark. It also would have helped if Max could see over the pile of washing. Either way, her foot slipped from under her and Max plummeted forwards into her bedroom door, squashing one of her hands against the door handle, banging her head on the frame, and dropping half the pile of clothes.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her head now throbbing in a regular drum-beat matching her heart. With a quick twist she was leaning against the door with her shoulders and was able to push herself back upright again, though her legs were feeling about as steady as her skull at that moment.

Still clutching the un-escaped clothes, she blinked hard a couple of times until her legs no longer resembled a plate of jello, before using her elbow to open her bedroom door and take the clothes inside. She needed to sit down for a minute. Then she'd deal with everyone else.

oOoOo

"I can't _believe _you get the say off school and the rest of us have to go," Iggy complained as Max led him out the door, standing to the side to let the rest of the brood out. "Half of my teacher may as well live in the next state over, but they cans till make it in? There's no justice in that at all."

Max clicked the door shut after Angel and jammed the key in the door, locking it firmly. "That's the way the snow falls," she replied cheerily, the chance to have a day in the park with Fang ringing in her mind as she took the blind boy's arm and led him down the path. Iggy snorted next to her as they made their way precariously along the icy path towards their schools, Angel and Gasman running ahead as they engaged in a to-the-death snowball fight.

Today was going to be a good day. She was sure of it.

oOoOo

On the other side of town and rather against his will, Fang had accompanied Mike to the hospital to pick up his step-sister. Apparently he needed to come so the girl could get used to seeing him again, as she didn't need to be distressed unnecessarily, and would have been pulled out of school to do so whether there was a snow day or not.

Fang wished it had been a school day. Least then he would be skipping school rather than losing half a day of freedom.

Though Mike had intended to get there extra early and take Nadia to lunch, the nurses station assured him that his daughter had to be signed out by a doctor. Much to the man's anger the first ward doctor was not due in until 9am, and even then he had to do his rounds before he was allowed to check on patients waiting for discharge.

So, despite being there at 7.30am, Fang and Mike were forced to wait in Nadia's private room for an hour and a half before the angry Father stormed out of the suite to complain at the doctor as he came through the door, and convince him that he was to check up and release his daughter before his rounds.

To be frank, Fang was glad he left. The atmosphere in the suite had been anything but calming and he felt on edge and pressured to keep talking to Nadia most of their stay. As soon as he had slammed the door behind him, Fang slumped in his seat and let out a gentle sigh, stretching his bad leg out to prevent putting too much pressure upon it.

After a moment's silence, Nadia leant forwards. "It _is _Nick, right?" She asked, smiling widely when she received a single nod. "That's good. I was worried I'd been calling you the wrong name all morning!" She exclaimed, enticing a small, kind half smile out of her supposed step-brother.

She pulled herself more upright against the pillows behind her, still not taking her eyes off the dark lad as he gazed out of the window. Now it had been a few days since the accident she was on softer medication, meaning her head was much less foggy but the pain in her arm was a little more prevalent. This arm remained across her chest in a sling the whole time, resting heavily in the cotton.

A few more minutes silence passed. "Can I ask a question?" She finally added, though she had been thinking of asking it ever since the lad had walked in the room. The questions her Father had proposed, however, had done anything but lead to asking it. After just a moment's silent contemplation, Fang nodded once again, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for her to voice it.

"Why are you all beaten up?"

oOoOo

Though she meant to go straight home after dropping the kids off at school, Max had been caught up at Iggy's school for about an hour. Now she was receiving benefits for caring for him she needed to fill in a few forms, they had told her, so that they could offer him free lunches and a few extra aids is he so wished for them such as a guide home. Though Max had said this wasn't necessary at all, the insisted she fill the papers in, so here she was at 9.30am and only just getting home.

Before she had gotten her key out of her pocket, Max noticed there was an envelope lodged half into the letterbox, the other end poking out into the street. Taking her hands from her pockets, where she had been scrabbling for her keys, she pulled the brown packet from her letterbox and flipped it over to read the addressee.

It was marked with an official stamp, and labelled 'Funds Committee'. She hesitated, wanting to open the letter and find out if she got to keep her kids or not, but not wanting to in case it said all of her siblings, possibly even herself, would have to be put into separate care homes. After a few minutes contemplation she once again burrowed about in her pockets for her keys, opened the door and stepped inside.

Today was not a good day for Maxine Martinez.


	38. Disaster

**Alright, rereading done and I think I got all of the errors in this chapter. Thank you for the two reviewers that commented while I was at University (I have email access on my phone, score!) and to anyone just tuning into this update, I hope you enjoy.**

**Disaster**

Though he wished he could tell Nadia it was her Father that had given him most of his cuts and bruises, the one on his face now an odd shade of yellow, a part of Fang held him back. Of course he wanted the girl to know the truth, but she had just come out of a major accident. Stability and security would mean everything to her for a while now.

And revealing her Father was responsible was not going to help.

Instead, he blamed it all on Damien and his gang from school, to which Nadia chimed in frequently whenever he mentioned Lissa, the girl he had brushed aside. Apparently she was well known through the whole school as a complete slut; she had a new boyfriend every other day whilst also supposedly sleeping with the senior on the football team.

It was just minutes into this conversation that a red-faced, scowling Mike returned to the cubicle and sat heavily on the chair he had vacated not too long before. His eyebrows knotted together, he folded his arm across his chest and slid down in the pathetic plastic seat, not saying a word.

Not daring to break the silence, Fang had snapped his mouth shut and now sat back in his chair, leaning an arm on the crutch leant against him. On the bed Nadia shuffled uncomfortably, looking from her Father to the boy she had been told was her half-brother.

There was certainly some tension between them. She could have cut it with a spoon.

Finally, she shuffled forwards a little. "Dad?" She asked softly, pulling his attention straight to her from the floor. His eyebrows unknotted the second he caught her eyes, and a small smile even managed to creep onto his face when she smiled at him. "When is the doctor coming?"

The man sighed heavily and pulled himself upright in his chair, unfolding his arms to pull the seat closer to his daughter's bedside. "He has to do his _rounds_," he told her, almost spitting the final word. "Then he can come and check you out. Shouldn't be more than half an hour."

_Thank God_, Fang thought as he heard Nadia thank her Father for finding out and let him readjust her pillows. He'd had enough of hospitals in the last few weeks. He didn't care that he had been dragged along just to say hello before they both buggered off to lunch without him, or that he was up ridiculously early on a _snow day_, but that the smell of antiseptic was once again invading his nostrils, slowly making him go crazy.

Once Nadia was comfortable, Mike sank back into his seat and glanced over at his Step-Son, who seemed to be staring off into the distance out the window, lost in thought. He cleared his throat, pulling the young lad's attention sharply back to his face, and half-smiled at Nickolas' obedience.

"Tell her about your old school," Mike stated, leaning against the backrest of his chair. Nadia sent him an apologetic glance, aware the lad was not fond of talking by now, at how much Mike was making him say. "We've got half an hour to kill, make it good."

oOoOo

It was all she could do to hold the phone still.

Max held the receiver in both hands as she waited for it to dial, her heart racing and her palms beginning to sweat uncontrollably. Forgetting she had left the front door wide open, Max paced anxiously into the living room, then out again into the kitchen just as the phone decided to ring the punched-in number. The brown envelope lay forgotten in the hall, discarded on the carpet.

Swallowing hard, the girl leant against a wall to try and steady herself, running a hand through her hair, trying to control her breathing. Despite holding the receiver so firmly she could feel it shaking, along with the rest of her muscles. Before she knew it she had sunk down to the floor and was sobbing quietly into the receiver.

Finally, it clicked. "911," a young lady answered abruptly, not bothering to give her name due to the usual nature of emergency service calls. They were usually so rapid and the caller so upset it wasn't worth trying to 'connect the caller to their operator', as the higher-ups had phrased it.

Better to be swift and save a few lives.

Max wiped her nose on the back of her arm. "T-there's been an accident." She stated, glancing out to the hallway she had abandoned in favour of the less gruesome surroundings of the dining room. "It's my Dad. I need an ambulance right way."

oOoOo

Though they had been told that his rounds would take around half an hour, Mike seemed to take this as gospel. As soon as the clock hit 9.30am he was back out of the door, leaving Fang and Nadia in another awkward silence as the young lad rested his voice. The man had made him explain virtually everything about his last school, of which he tactfully left out the worse details, while they waited for the time to tick by.

Longest half hour of his life.

It was about five minutes later he returned with a doctor in tow, looking just as flustered as Mike had done after being rejected, clutching a pen and a clipboard that Fang assumed was Nadia's chart. Though his chair was still vacated Mike didn't sit back down, instead choosing to hover behind the Doctor and look over his shoulder at the charts.

Despite Fang being tall, at least 6'3" now, Mike was still outsizing him by at least an inch. The doctor flipping through Nadia's charts couldn't have been more than 5'8" and looked ridiculously small and fragile with Mike's tall, large frame directly behind him. He flipped to the last page if the chart and read through the results of her last tests, done on the day of her accident.

"I just need to do a few basic tests," he commented lightly, meeting Nadia's eyes and giving her a wide, friendly smile. It put the girl at ease, just as the doctor hoped, and he even got a smile back. It always felt good to make the patients smile.

Mike took a step closer. "What kind of tests?"

The doctor turned around to look at him, seemingly undeterred by the man's stature and bulk. "I need to so a reflex test, a sight test and a perception test, to make sure all the fundamentals of her brain are working correctly before we let her loose again." He turned back to Nadia and flashed his smile again. "Wouldn't want her to walk out into another accident, would we?"

He glanced at Fang and looked the boy up and down, taking in the scars on his face and the bruise fading around his eye, then back at Mike, who seemed to have taken yet another step closer. The doctor wasn't sure if he was trying to intimidate him, or just get close enough to read the fine print on the chart, but he met the man's eyes, smiled, and sidestepped to get around him to the door.

"I'll just go ge-" The man stopped mid-sentence and half way through the door as the little buzzer on his belt beeped, which he immediately grabbed to read the message rolling across the small screen. He paused for a second, then looked up apologetically. "There's an emergency. I have to deal with that first, then I will be back."

"You can sign Nadia out first," Mike commented, not trying to give the doctor a choice in the matter. The man shook his head and placed the beeped back on his belt, folding the clipboard of notes under his arm.

"She needs these tests first. I will be back as soon as I can." And with that he was gone.

Standing with his back to the room, Mike stared at the now closed door angrily. He didn't like to be made to wait, especially by a young squirt of a doctor who was probably fresh out of medical school. After a minute of staring at the painted wood he turned around and began emptying Nadia's belongings from the lockbox next to her bed.

One they were all in a bag, he motioned towards the door with his head. "You can discharge yourself," he stated as Nudge made to crawl out of the bed and slip on her shoes, already dressed to be going home. She looked up at him worriedly, concerned she wasn't getting the tests the doctor thought she needed. "You'll be fine. If you look unsteady on the way to the car, I'll bring you straight back."

Across the room, Fang pulled himself to his feet and picked up his crutch, now only restricted to one of them rather than a pair. If it wasn't for Damien he could have given it back to the hospital today, but now he'd probably need it for another week. The nurse at reception didn't seem to mind this when he explained it, but he hoped he would be handing it back to them very soon.

He felt helpless on crutches, and he hated it.

Before he could stride across the room, Mike was already gone and half way down the hall. Nadia, however, waited for Fang to reach the doorway and held it open for him, to which she got a friendly half smile as he passed her. She may not remember him, but she was still her old self, and he guessed that was more important.

Mike waited for them at the end of the corridor, Nudge's belongings in one hand and her blood-spattered coat in the other. He tapped his foot impatiently as his daughter slowly made her way down the corridor with Nickolas, not talking to him or anything, just walking with him as he hobbled along.

She liked her new brother, even if Mike detested the boy.

As they finally caught up with Mike, the doors behind them flew open and a trolley, followed by the doctor who had been seeing to Nudge, flew past and up the hall. They were moving so fast Fang only caught a glimpse of the man on the trolley – he had fluffy blonde curls that were matted with blood, and his face was covered in bruises.

Mike watched them fly up the corridor and into another room. "Fucking emergencies," he stated coldly, turning back to look at his daughter, who had frowned slightly at his words. "They need more doctors in this place. One doctor to deal with everything is fucking ridiculous." With that he turned on the spot and headed out of the doors the trolley had come from, towards the exit.

Nudge didn't move for a few minutes, silently staring at the floor. Beside her, Fang took a single step forwards and stooped to look at her face, which she raised enough for him to see her eyes. There were tears stinging the corners, and they were red, but the tears would not flow.

"You ok?" He asked her softly, at which Nudge straightened up and nodded vigorously, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Just tired," she said, plastering on a Max-grade fake smile before walking over to and holding the door open for Fang. He kept eye contact with her as he walked through the door, frowning at her fake happiness, but trying to decipher what was going on in her head was suddenly erased from his thoughts when he stepped into the waiting room.

He didn't expect to see Max there.

She was sat staring at the wall opposite her, a cup of coffee shaking in her hands as silent tears traced a clear path down her cheek. There was a towel wrapped around her shoulders, put there by the paramedics as a form of comfort, and she was all alone.

Looking up, Fang realised Mike was already out of sight, probably headed for the car. Behind him, Nudge took a step forwards and looked at the girl Fang had been staring at, her face falling into sympathy. "She must have come in with the emergency," she stated, putting her hand in her pocket without taking her eyes off of her. "Poor girl."

It took a split second for Fang to decide his next move, mainly because it didn't take much consideration. He could go with Nudge and his step father, be forced to ramble in the car for ten minutes before being dropped off at home, then spend the rest of the day worrying about Max. On the contrary he could let her and Mike leave without him and stay with Max, which seemed much more appealing in so many ways it wasn't worth thinking about.

He looked around at Nudge. "Tell Mike I'll be home before nightfall," he stated gently, looking back around at Max as she ran the back of her hand over her face, trying to wipe away the tears. The repercussions of not doing exactly what Mike wanted weren't even entering his brain as he took a step towards her. "I can't leave her on her own," He added, not looking back at his step sister. "She's my friend."

Nudge didn't say anything as he made his way over to the plastic seats, the girl not noticing he was there until he leant his crutch against the table. She seemed both surprised and relieved to see him as he sat down, placing her coffee on the table and wiping the tears from her face. He opened an arm to her and pulled her close, pulling her head into his chest and slowly stroking her hair as the girl's body began to rock with sobs.

Behind them, Nudge smiled very slightly before padding after her Dad. Surely he would understand why Fang stayed behind.


	39. Surprises

**So, I'm not dead, just overrun with exams and revision as of late...and the last few months, to be honest. I did however just run through a whole Taylor Swift playlist (because apparently Taylor Swift helps me write this fic...I dont really know.) writing this update for you. I hope you enjoy!**

**Surprises**

Though their health insurance only covered Gary, due to his critical condition Mr. Martinez was accommodated in a private room away from the bustle of a normal ward. The cost of such a measure didn't even cross Max's mind as she stood there watching a nurse check his vitals from the other side of an observation window.

A quick scan showed the only internal bleeding to be from a vessel in her Father's head and, though they had managed to stem the flow and syphon off the lost blood, he was still in critical condition. He had a ventilator working his lungs for him and he was unconscious. After checking his vitals he was due to have a neuroimaging scan, to see if there was any permanent damage to his brain function.

The doctors didn't have much hope – that's what they'd told Max.

According to their database, his level of internal injury and blood loss indicated he had been at the bottom of the stairs between twenty and forty minutes before the ambulance got to the scene. If that was so, Max would have gotten home before he even fell normally. She could have called 911 much earlier, or stopped the accident occurring all together.

She closed her eyes and visualised the scene that had awaited her behind their front door. At the bottom of the stairs, his head jammed against the banister and blood dying both his golden hair and the cream carpet a deep red. Her first thought when she grabbed the phone was that he had broken his neck, but the doctors now told her he sustained a concussion and a burst vessel, the bleeding on the brain, from the impact.

Opening her eyes, she sniffed and wiped yet another tear away as the nurse finished her checks, filled in his clipboard and walked out to inform the doctor all was normal. It was as she left the room that Fang returned, his crutch under one arm and two cups of coffee in a holder in the other hand. Max took the beverage thankfully and took a deep glug, something Fang had expected after three runs of coffee. He'd added lots of milk, to cool it down.

He had no idea what to say in a situation like this, so instead kept his mouth shut. Resting the cup holder on the floor he took a sip from his own coffee, still piping hot, before taking a sideways glance at Max. She had her arms folded across her chest, her cup in her left hand and resting on her elbow, staring into her Father's room for the third hour in a row.

"What will I do without him?" She asked so quietly Fang wasn't even sure she said it. She caught his eyes with a sideways glance, as is to confirm she had actually asked the question, before looking back at her Father's weak frame. "Since Mum…died, he's been my rock, _our _rock. If he dies too…"

She trailed off as another tear carved a path down her cheek, taking another sip from her coffee despite her bottom lip quivering in emotion. Beside her, Fang cast his eyes between her and her Father, as well aware as she was that he was probably brain-dead. If he wasn't, it was likely he'd have a mental impairment for the rest of his life.

Still at a loss for words, he simply put her arm around her shoulder and let her rest her head in his neck, feeling warm tears occasionally touch his skin and run down his shirt. He had no words of comfort or condolence to offer.

Max's life was going to get worse, either way.

**oOoOo**

It was about an hour before Max was due to pick up the kids she actually remembered them, and then began to panic about the blood at the bottom of the stairs. The last thing the kids needed to see would be a puddle of blood after being told their Father was in hospital.

Thankfully, Fang had taken to keeping money in his pocket.

Within a few minutes of leaving the hospital they had hailed a cab and were half way to Max's house. Since his own home was along the route, Fang paid the taxi driver in advance to take her the whole way to her house and alighted at the end of his driveway. He gave Max the most reassuring smile he could muster before closing the door again, and watched the taxi round the end of the street before starting up his driveway.

The whole length of the driveway was gravelled, the worst terrain for a crutch to be used on, but now he was only using one Fang was able to navigate the sea of tiny rocks easily. About half a minute slower than crutch-less he got to the door and pressed his key into the lock.

It was the middle of the day, and sunlight was streaming into the house through the many and vast windows the building had to offer. Fang closed the door behind him and slipped his keys back into his pocket, leaning his crutch against the hall wall. He didn't use it in the house, as he wasn't walking for long periods of time, and instead left it by the door for when he went out.

Though he should have noticed it instantly, he was so distracted with thoughts of Max and her Father it took Fang a few seconds to hear there were three voices coming from the kitchen, even though Mike's car was not in the drive. Her frowned and hobbled a few steps further into the hall, trying to recognise them.

One was his mother's. The other two he recognised, but couldn't place.

Considering just getting closer to the room wasn't helping, he finally decided he'd have to go into the kitchen and see who it was. He was rather thirsty anyway, the mountains of coffee he's consumed at the hospital more scalding his mouth than sating any thirst. He twisted the door handle down and pushed the door open in a single smooth motion before stepping inside.

He almost stepped straight back out again.

The sudden, deafening silence in the room was unbearable. Fang's expression went from surprise to contempt as he stared at him Mother's two guests, whose own faces had the audacity to go from surprise to slight smiles on recognition of their battered old acquaintance.

Collecting himself, he sent a slight smile towards his Mother before walking slowly over to the fried and pulling out a carton of orange juice, pretending the other occupants of the table were not there. The awkward silence continued until a chair scraped across the tiled floor, making the hairs on the back of Fang's neck stand up as the guest approached the boy's back.

"Nickolas," the voice said, and Fang wondered how he'd ever been unable to place the voice of the man who'd ripped his family apart. A large hand fell on the boys shoulder, and every muscle in his body tensed in repulsion. "It's good to see you."

His shoulder jerked, knocking the faux-friendly hand gesture from his shoulder and back to his Father's side, before downing the rest of his juice and hobbling over to the sink in silence. Though he had the urge to hurl the fragile glass at the man, he placed it carefully in the sink instead, and turned to leave.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Richard." He heard his Mother whisper as he made his way to the door. The brief phone call he'd had with Brigid, the other guest at the table, what felt like a lifetime ago and remembered they'd some to tell him, or both of them, something.

Either way, he didn't want to hear it, and continued out the door.

He took the stairs slowly, trying not to strain his leg. "We can we _not_ tell him?" Brigid's now easily distinguishable voice crept from the open door, pulling a frown onto Fang's face. There was a brief silence, allowing him to climb half of the staircase before his Dad proclaimed "If he doesn't want to know, why should we tell him? Little shit."

Pausing on the stairs, Fang looked back down towards the kitchen, where the conversation became more hushed when his Mother joined the conversation. He considered going back down the stairs and asking what all the fuss was about, but he was so angry at both Richard and Brigid that he couldn't bring himself to.

Clearing the last of the stairs, Fang hobbled down the corridor to his room and fell into his computer chair, not bothering to shuffle closer to his desk as he leant back and slowly rubbed his eyes. Today had been a very stressful day, and having the return of the slut and the man-whore had really been the cherry on top of the cake.

There was a single knock on his open door. He peeled his hand from his eyes to see Brigid standing in the doorway, her left hand hooked around her right arm nervously. She offered her first love a small smile, to which he span his chair around and pulled himself towards his desk by his hands, his back to the girl.

"May I come in?" she ventured, already taking a step into the room without permission. Fang ignored her, instead rummaging in his desk for a pencil and flipping his note pad open to a picture he was yet to finish. After a few seconds of staring at it, he flip to a clean page instead, and began a new sketch.

Brigid took a few steps across the plush carpet to look over his shoulder at the picture he was drawing, but this early on in the process it was almost impossible to decipher a picture from the mass of disjointed lines. She sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, which was shrugged off almost before it even landed on his skin.

Rejected, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed at the ceiling. "Look, Fang." She said, a harsh tone entering her voice. Unaffected, Fang continued to draw. "We went over this stuff before, when you saw me at school. It's not that I didn't like you, it's tha-"

"You wanted a man with _experience_," Fang finished for her slamming his pencil down on the table before spinning his chair around. Lissa had jumped back a step and was not staring at him wide eyed, both in surprise and fear. He glared straight back into her eyes, as if he were staring into her soul.

"If you came here to tell me something we've already discussed, I have more important things to be doing." He stated, his voice seemingly much safer and calmer than the rest of his features. With that he got to his feet, adding his extra seven inches on her height to his argument. "I'd had enough shit for one day," he added, the venom in his expression finally showing in his voice. "So tell me something new, or get the fuck out of my house."

His old girlfriend could feel all her muscles shaking. He'd never spoken to her like that when they were dating, and honestly didn't know he was capable of being that intimidating. She took a deep, shaky breath. Her lungs felt like they were on fire.

"I'm p-p-pregnant," she finally stammered out. "A-And I don't k-know if it's yours or R-Richard's."


	40. Clarifications

**So...after lots of reviews yesterday, got spurred on to doing another update! **

**Arent you lucky fishes?**

**Updates are going to be sparse, since I'm supposed to be revising for my first year exams right now, so I'll be writing when I need a break from studying, most probably. I hope you enjoy this update, bit of drama and you find out what happens to Max's father. Good chapter, eh? **

**Clarifications**

As soon as she stammered out the word, Fang's whole body seemed to die. The anger melted away to be replaced with a feeling of numbness. He couldn't even manage to process surprise as a prickly cold crept across his skin, his eyes un-focusing for just a second as he took it in.

Brigid had finally regained her composure at least, and was no longer shaking. She stared back at Fang's vacant expression with worry, waiting for him to respond. He'd swung from seething anger to complete indifference in less than a second, and the sudden change in emotion unsettled her.

He used to be so calm and predictable.

Finally, Fang took a deep breath "You're pregnant," he stated in an eerily even tone. She nodded once before looking down at the floor, his gaze too unnerving to hold. He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head slowly, his numb body now beginning to feel like lead. Due to both this feeling and the surprise finally seeping into his system, he fell back into his office chair.

He stared at ceiling open mouthed for a few seconds, before running a hand through his hair. "How is this baby mine?" He asked her as calmly as possible, the unfamiliar feeling of fear flooding through his system.

He wasn't ready to be a father, let alone the father of a child living hundreds of miles away.

He glanced down from the ceiling to Brigid, but she was still looking at the floor, her left hand hooked round her right arm in nervous shame. He glanced down at her stomach, no longer the concave stomach of a stick-thin girl but the slight bulge of an expectant mother.

_How did I miss that_? He asked himself incredulously, though he knew the answer. He'd been too angry to take in details in the kitchen, had avoided looking at the girl at all except for the first glance of recognition.

When the girl finally did look up, her eyes were red, and a single tear was carving a path down her cheek. It was at this point Fang rolled his eyes, swung his chair back around to his desk and picked up his abused pencil in one swift move.

He'd seen the tears so many times before; he just couldn't be bothered with them anymore.

Behind him, Brigid saw red. "Don't turn your fucking back on me," she seethed between clenched teeth, the tears instantly forgotten now they were ignored. She used to play them on people at school, and she wasn't accustomed to them not working. "I might be carrying your baby."

"How, exactly?" he asked again, sketching in the side of a woman's face to his picture, refusing to look around. He scratched out the girl's chin, then erased it and made it less strongly defined.

The teenager glared. "You know how babies are made, Nickolas. We did it enough times."

There was a short pause before Fang relinquished his pencil again, this time with more care, before spinning his chair back to face her. As he had expected, the tears had been a front, and she was now red across the nose in anger. He pulled himself more upright in his chair, never breaking their stare contest.

"How is the baby mine," he re-alliterated slowly, "When you were on the pill and I used condoms?"

It was amusing, watching his old girlfriend, the girl who'd ripped his family apart, squirm under this gaze at this new question. The red across her nose slowly migrated to a pinkness in her cheeks, helping her auburn hair bring out the freckles that banded across her nose.

Finally, she shrugged huffily. "Obviously, they failed." She replied, her voice flustered. Fang shook his head at her before pulling himself to his feet, taking a single step to close the distance between them a little.

"The chance of both failing at the same time is ridiculously small," he stated calmly, looking down at her. From his height, the girl's eyes had always seemed huge, framed with an array of naturally long eyelashes. "Besides, I had to clean the things up afterwards. There were no broken ones, to my recollection."

Brigid went very quiet at this statement, looking down as she thought of other excuses. When Fang began to walk away from her, she looked up to see him sit down on the edge of his bed and pull open the bedside table, from which he produced a diary.

He flipped the pages open. "You also seem very sure it could be mine, without any real basis." He observed, flicking through pages until he came to a circled date, almost four months before. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and innocent. "You must know how far gone you are by now."

The teenager swallowed. He was smarter than she remembered. "Fifteen weeks."

Fang half smiled. "So somewhere near your birthday then," he stated, holding the book out for her to take. When she didn't move to take the diary from him, he dropped it back to his lap to look at the date himself. "The day you _assured_ me you'd been taking the pill properly and practically _begged_ for me to not use a condom."

Finally, her muscles unfroze, and Brigid strode across the room and ripped the diary from his hands. "Don't act like this is all my fault," she stated, a little anger slipping into her tone. "You wanted to do it just as much as I did."

"Well," he added, getting to his feet once more, aware his thigh was not enjoying all the movement as it complained yet again. He towered over the girl, a mere 5'6, as he stated confidently: "You told me there was no chance of an accident. In those exact words. So unless I'm the one who took your pills wrong, it certainly isn't my fault, is it?"

With that he strode back across the room to his computer chair and sat down, turning his back to her and picking up his pencil. Behind him, Brigid stood holding the diary, staring at the back of his head stupidly.

After a few minutes she threw the diary at the wall. "So I wanted a fucking baby," she shouted at the back of his head. Fang was ignoring her, sketching in the rest of the girl's facial features. "Big fucking deal. So I didn't take my pills. Either way, I would end up with a something to love and you'd never be able to leave me."

"That worked out well for you," he commented dryly.

Brigid was seething. "I fucked your Dad for the first time that night." His pencil paused mid-stroke, and his grip on the tool got just a little bit tighter. "He didn't spend ten minutes talking about contraception; he just took me, on the sofa, while you and your Mum were sleeping upstairs. And he was so. Fucking. Good."

Though he was seething, Fang said nothing. He continued to stare at the picture he had been drawing, currently half a girl's face, while he waited for Brigid to add to his mental torture. "If it's yours, you're _never _seeing this kid," she added as a final stab through the heart, then left.

Fang didn't move until he heard his mum shuffle Richard and his ex out of the door, then he finally remembered how to breathe. He dropped the pencil, which he had been gripping so tightly had left a dent in the length of his palm and leant back in his seat, slowly rubbing his face with his hands.

To him, only one word did his situation justice. "Fuck."

oOoOo

Everything was quiet in the Martinez household.

Dishes lay ignored from the morning, soaking in cold water in the sink. The meat left out to defrost lay forgotten and warm on the draining board. In the hallway, homework lay forgotten in rucksacks at the bottom of the stairs, destined to be handed in a day late.

In the middle of the hall, trampled by snow covered shoes, lay an important but still forgotten brown envelope, detailing what the government thought should happen to the Martinez family. In that little brown envelope, the future of all the children had been decided by the state.

But it didn't matter anymore, none of it did.

The family had piled into Max's room upon returning home and had barely moved since. The four of them had crowded onto her bed and held each other for hours, sobbing quietly as they waited for the phone to ring. No tears left to shed and exhausted from grief, Gasman and Angel had fallen asleep on their older siblings' laps.

They had been asleep for an hour when the phone rang, barely getting out its first chime before Max had answered the call. Iggy turned his face towards her, staring into his blindness, wishing he could see how Max was reacting to what she was being told. The kids remained fast asleep in their laps, undisturbed by the conversation as Max replied with nods and a lot of 'yes' and 'okay' replies.

Finally, the caller disconnected, and new tears flooded into the young adult's eyes. She sniffed hard and let out a gasping breath, pressing her wrist to her nose in both grief and the fear of snot running down her face. Carefully, Iggy wrapped his arm around her and tilted her head into his neck, stroking the back of her head slowly.

Their Father was brain-dead. That's all that mattered.


	41. Goodbye

**Short chapter, but all that needs to be said is covered. **

**Chapter 41**

The next morning Max and her family crowded into the hospital to say goodbye to their Father. It tore Max's heart in two, seeing him look so fragile, hooked up to so many machines to keep his body alive. She wondered if it had been cruel to keep him alive all night, just so the family could say goodbye, but then the nurse reassured her he could not think or feel.

His brain was dead; their Father was no longer in there.

It upset Max further to believe she wasn't even saying goodbye to her Father, but an empty shell, but she soon found her bearings when the kids started to bawl. Both Gasman and Angel had been sobbing all morning, and had refused to eat anything before they set out. She and Iggy had only eaten half a piece of toast, to try and encourage the others, but their stomachs were churning with grief.

Taking Angel by the hand, Max lead the little girl into her Father's small private room, sending a sniffling Gasman a reassuring smile over her shoulder as they went in. He was going to go in with Iggy after them, so that he could seek comfort from his older brother.

Once inside, Angel slipped her hand from Max's and walked slowly over to her Father's body. The cuts and bruises he had sustained from the fall still covered his face and hands, covered in gauze. They had shaved part of his head to syphon and stem the blood flow, and this patch was now also covered in gauze, fresh and white from the morning rounds.

Max stayed by the door, wringing her hands before her, while her sister made it to the bed and ran her tiny fingers over her Father's massive hands. She tricked her fingertips up his arm, all the time waiting for a response to show on his face, but none ever came.

Finally, her fingers reached his face, and she swept her hands over the smile lines that had etched into his skin over the years. His eyes were closed peacefully, and his hands rested on his stomach as if he were just resting his eyes, but his expression was blank and he refused to react to Angel's fingertips.

She sniffed hard, trying to keep the tears back, trying to be brave.

"He looks like he's sleeping," she whispered, looking back at Max, who finally crossed the short distance between the door and the bed. The little girl looked back at her Father as a comforting hand fell on her shoulder, and more tears pooled in her eyes. "Are they sure he isn't just sleeping?"

Max took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ange." She said softly, giving the little girl's shoulder a squeeze. Those few, soft words tipped the girl over the edge and Angel began to cry uncontrollably, her tiny frame rocking with sobs. Max leant down and pulled the girl to her, who flung her arms around her big sister's neck and sobbed into her neck.

Slowly, Max smoothed the girl's curls, staring up at her Father's unresponsive frame through red-rimmed eyes. She had no idea how long they sat there. Eventually, Angel's ran out of tears to shed and pulled away from her sister, turning to look at her Father one last time.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, which she unfolded before holding it up for Max to take. Her big sister took it and flattened the paper out further, reading what Angel had written.

_I lost my Daddy today. He was the best Dad. He knew how to make us laugh when we were sad and how to make us so happy when he was with us. I love you Daddy. I hope now you have gone to Heaven you will get your eyes back so you can look down on us and smile at us. _

_Don't worry about us Daddy. Max will take good care of us like you say she has since Mammy went to Heaven. Find Mammy and smile down on us and I will try to make you proud._

_Your Angel_

Though she was now crying, Max couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. She looked down at her brave little sister and ruffled the girl's blonde curls before leaning forwards and placing the paper on her Father's lap, lifting his hand a little to hold onto the corner of his little girl's final goodbye.

Gently, Max ran the back of her hand over her Father's cheek, before tricking her fingers over the back of his hand, as she always did when we was about to leave. "Rest in peace, Dad." She said softly, feeling tears pool in her eyes again a she stood back, Angel slipping her small hand in her own. "Thank you for everything."

With that they turned and left the room, both looking back when they reached the door, reluctant to leave their Father behind. He remained peacefully unaware of their grief as Gasman lead Iggy into the room to say their goodbyes and Max settled on a plastic chair, pulling Angel onto her lap for a cuddle.

Everything was going to change again, and Max wasn't sure if it would be for the better.


	42. Silver Lining

**Ok, so, I'm not going to be at home til next Friday, and then I have to work on the Saturday, so this will be the last update for a while. What a writing spree that was XD But yes, enjoy, and dont kill me for the cliffie, or you'll /never/ find out what happens. ;]**

**Chapter 42**

With Angel's thin, pale arms around her neck, Max watched a doctor walk into her Father's room and carry out the last of his checks. He was legally obliged to make sure his patient was completely non-responsive before turning off the life support machine. A part of her heart was hoping with all her might that he would twitch a finger, or utter a syllable.

But he didn't; he remained motionless.

The little girl around her neck was fast asleep again, the crying and grief too much for her little psyche to bear. Beside them, Iggy had a tight hold on his little brother's hand as he stared vacantly towards the glass, detached by both his blindness and his emotions. Most of his feelings had turned into numbness as he waited for the inevitable scream of the heart monitor, telling him his father was no more.

Trying to be brave, this time more for himself than his sister, Gasman sniffed hard and blinked back tears. The tightening of his hand on around his older brother's was returned with a reassuring squeeze, but neither boy took their eyes off the observation window.

After what seemed like millennia, the doctor shook his head solemnly. He cast his eyes to the observation glass and waited for assurance. With new tears forming in her eyes, Max tightened her grip on Angel and nodded just once. The doctor returned the nod just as solemnly before turning back to his patient, looking down at the man one last time before flicking the machines keeping him alive off.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _Then it came, the flatline Iggy had been dreading, and tears finally escaped from his blind eyes. Max took lon, shaky breath, closing her eyes as she willed the tears to stay within their ducts.

There were no last hopes now. Their Father was gone forever.

**oOoOo**

Even after they'd trekked the hour long journey home, Max was still seeing red. She was due to go back to the hospital tomorrow, to talk with their doctor about funeral arrangements on a tight budget, yet he still had the audacity to force the bill for her Dad's departure into her hands just seconds after he had died and demand payment by the end of the month.

Christmas was in just two weeks, and Max had yet to buy any presents.

When they got home, all the kids agreed they didn't want to eat. With the whole day off school and it only being midday, they crept upstairs to their rooms to mourn their Father while Max angrily ripped the envelope open and read how much they were charging her for her Father's brief stay in hospital.

It struck her while she was reading the opening letter that if she wanted any presents this year, she was going to have to buy them. Her eyes unfocused and the letter turned to gibberish as she remembered their yearly outing with their Dad, who would help the kids find her presents while she shopped for theirs.

This year, they'd be at his funeral instead.

With a yell, she threw the letter and the envelope across the hall, both unable and unwilling to continue reading the pompous doctor's words. It was as she watched the letter and the bill separate and flutter to the floor that she realised two things; she'd left the front door open, and that there was a brown envelope in the middle of the hall.

She remembered what it was almost instantly, but the memory surprised her. She hadn't thought of anything but her Father for the last day and as such receiving the letter, even if it was right at the beginning of her Father's last days, seemed like a lifetime ago. Max picked it up as she strode over to and shut the door, then finally broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out the document within.

* * *

_Dear Miss Martinez,_

_I'm pleased to be writing to inform you that it has been agreed that your family is functioning to the standards of the Young Carer Authority and we would like to offer you some monthly funds to help you keep the household running smoothly._

_Within this envelope is a cheque addressed to yourself. The value of the cheque is a back-payment for the care you have provided for both your Father and your disabled brother over the last two years, as this is how long you have been eligible for the grant. On the attached sheet are the values that will be electronically transferred to your back account once we have your details._

_Please remember you can contact us at any time. We offer a once-a-month free nanny service and a discounted service any time a nanny is required, as well as extra emotional support for any family member free of charge._

_Merry Christmas._

_Synthia Applestein_

_Chairman of the YCA_

* * *

Max wasn't really sure how to react to the letter after all that had happened. It was another shock to some already frayed nerves. She ended up dropping that document to the floor and reaching back into the envelope, her hand falling on the document listing the funds that would be transferred into her account monthly.

She would get $200 a week due to their large family size. This was broken down as $50 for caring for one or more disabled persons, $50 to put towards food and $100 to put towards bills and savings. As she was still at school extra money could be applied for if the ends didn't quite meet, apparently up to four times a year, and a chaperone to pick the kids up from school could be arranged, usually free of charge. The money would be added in bulk, at the beginning of every month, to her bank account.

Reading through the letters, Max's mind began to boggle. Now her Father was dead they wouldn't be getting his incapacity benefit. That and Iggy's disabled grant were what the family used to rely on for food and bills, and even then they had to stretch too far most months. Now they would have plenty of money for food and be able to go out once a month to do something fun.

Drawn out of her slight stupor by the notion that their lives would actually get a little better with the grants, she stopped down and picked the other letter back up, folding it with the grants letter and slipping it back into the envelope. Then her fingers found the cheque and pulled it out.

She almost had a heart attack.


	43. Ice Cream Heals All

**So, good news. I'm alive!**

**Unfortunately, I am rather busy with exams and revision and work, so updates may continue to be sparse and possibly short. This is a full length update, however, you lucky lucky lemmings, and you find out how much money Max got this time around.**

**Other things that caused my absence...it was my 21st birthday, so I was all happy and distracted for a few days.**

**Also...I'm now engaged. =3 **

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter. Sorry for not replying to any reviews. THEY MEAN LOTS TO ME PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU HAVE COMMENTS. But I got so many I lost track of where I got up to in replying. Thank you everyone who reviewed, reviews prompt me to write more (I completed this update after waking up to two new reviews) and I hope you keep reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 43**

Absently, Maddie flipped her brown hair over her shoulders, waiting for the Facebook app on her phone to refresh. Her eyes kept flicking between the loading screen and the teacher at the front, who was too busy using his own phone to realise half of the class were ignoring the Maths problems written on the whiteboard.

Though she was smart, Maths had never been Maddie's subject. She couldn't see the point of learning how to derive the angle of a line from the slopes of others when there was almost no practical application for such things in life outside of school.

On her right, Janine had finished the Maths problems and was busily doing an essay due in at the end of the week, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders so Maddie couldn't see her face. She would make sure to ask Janine to explain it later, so at least when she virtually copied the girl's answers she could pretend to understand.

To her left, in what should have been Max's seat, was Nickolas. Though he was usually good at Maths, the girl was willing to bet Max's absence was playing on his mind as he chewed the end of his pencil so thoroughly while he stared blankly at the questions he had copied off the board. He'd told the girls that Max was off for family reasons, but hadn't divulged more than that before going dead quiet for the rest of the day.

Not that odd for the boy, but it still worried Maddie.

It was at that point her phone rang, though thankfully she had remembered to put it on vibrate. With a quick glance up at the teacher to make sure he was still too preoccupied to notice the sudden disappearance of one of his students, Maddie slipped under the table and answered the call.

Already lost in his own thoughts, Fang didn't notice the girl slip under the table and settle cross legged, her head stooped to accommodate the low height available. He was still staring at the Maths puzzle before him, the first of five, finding it incredibly hard to concentrate with so many thoughts circulating in his brain.

Having stared at the paper for half an hour, he decided this was long enough, putting his pencil down with a sigh. He leant forwards and rubbed his eyes with his palms, hoping the motion would clear his head of both fears for Max and her Father and the underlying concern that his arse of a Father was going to be raising his son or daughter.

It wasn't even that he didn't want to be a Father anymore, but that he didn't want his own Father to raise the kid. He considered the man's failure at raising him a good enough reason for this thought, but there really wasn't much he could do about it.

He had a job and a house. In a custody battle, his Father would win hands down.

There was a tug on his trouser leg, to which Fang frowned into his palms in slight confusion. Another tug and he lifted his head from his palms and peeked under the table in curiosity, which soon became surprise when he noticed Max's friend under there with a phone pressed to her ear.

"Max wants to meet you at the ice cream parlour after school," she whispered harshly, motioning him to stop looking at her under the table. It made what she was doing a little too obvious. He raised his head to look back at the board instead, listening intently. "Do you know where the parlour is?"

He shook his head, hoping she could see it. A few seconds of hushed conversation passes before he heard her whisper. "I'll show him the way, if you buy me an ice cream. Yeah, lemon and lime. Ok, see you soon."

"Madison Watergate," the teacher's voice resounded through the classroom, and everyone went silent as they turned to look at her empty seat. Beneath the table, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she disconnected the call. "What, pray tell me, are you doing _under_ your desk?"

As smoothly as he could, Fang knocked his pencil off the side of the table, which almost hit the girl in the face. She looked up briefly to see Fang not looking down at her, but his right hand curled into a thumbs-up under the table. She smiled slightly, picking up the pencil as she slipped back into her chair.

"I was helping Nick find his pencil, Sir." She answered sweetly, handing the mentioned pencil to Fang, who smiled in what seemed to the teacher as appreciation. "He couldn't go down and look with his hurt leg."

A few silent seconds passed, then the teacher seemed to have believed her as he resumed teaching rather than offering her a detention on the side of her lie. Relieved, Maddie slouched down a little in her seat and slipped her phone into her pocket. Now the teacher was paying attention, Facebook was too risky.

"Thanks," she whispered to Nickolas, who was trying to focus his rebellious mind on the teacher. He let his mouth slide up into a slight smile without looking at her. "Take that as my thank you for showing me where the ice cream parlour is," he whispered back.

**oOoOo**

The kids were quiet as they sucked the ice cream off their spoons. Max didn't blame them, comfortable the only noise breaking the silence was the chinking of metal on glass as Gasman scraped out his bowl with utmost care. They only came to the ice cream parlour to celebrate or to cheer them all up, and as such the tradition continued.

Though this would be the first time for both celebration and sadness in one go.

Beside her, Iggy manoeuvred his spoon from ice cream to mouth with incredible accuracy, unblinking eyes staring out of the window they were seated in front of. On the other side of the table, Angel and her brother were both finishing up their ice creams at quite an incredible speed, and Max was glad she had enough for some extra if they wanted it.

While she stood in the queue, the kids had tried to reserve a window seat at the front of the store. Here there were large booths with plush seats that would take up to eight people, plenty of space for them as well as Fang and Maddie when they arrived. By the time Max got back, there was a young couple at on the very edge of the seat, with two very determined little kids trying to squash them out of the booth the teens had tried to commandeer from them.

With a sigh, Max had hustled her bunch over to the small tables at the back and moved a couple of them together. Normally, she would have argued their case until the ice creams melted if she had to, but she'd had enough emotional strain for a year that very morning.

It was easier to leave it alone.

The back window looked out over the parlour's yard, an inviting and pleasant place to sit in the summer. As she ate Max studied the vast expanse of snow covered grass. The sun had begun to shine through the clouds, casting an orange glow over the garden and encouraging some grass to peak through the powdery coating, but the wind still blew too cold to make the garden comfortable.

Checking her watch, Max sighed and turned in her seat to look at the entrance. It was well past the school kick-out time now, and she was beginning to worry one of Damien's goons had apprehended Fang and Maddie on their way to the parlour. Ten minutes later she was ready to abandon her kids in the shop and trace the path to school, but just as she went to blurt out her plans to her family the pair appeared outside the door.

Having already pulled up another table and associated chairs, there was plenty of room for both Fang and Maddie to rest their school bags and sit, even if the chair themselves were not padded or even mildly comfortable. It took another ten minutes for Max to get back to the clerk of the busy ice cream store and order their preferences; mint chocolate for Fang, lemon and lime for Maddie.

She got all the other kids another round too. It seemed to make them nervous.

"So, what's the celebration?" Iggy asked rather solemnly, not touching his second helping of strawberry and cream ice cream. Instead he played with the spoon absently, staring at it as if he could see. "Even on the worst occasions, we only get one scoop."

Max dipped her spoon into the milkshake her ice cream had become while she waited in the line, sucked the liquid off and swallowed. Then she looked at Maddie and Fang, realising they still didn't know what had happened this morning. Placing her spoon back in the bowl and resting back in the uncomfortable white, metal seat, she closed her eyes.

"Our Father…passed away this morning," she said softly, finding it hard to make the words pass her lips. A warm hand offered comfort and condolence on her shoulder in a few seconds, which Max placed as Fang's since he had sat beside her. To her surprise, as one usually with a motor-mouth, Maddie had nothing to say. Instead when Max opened her eyes her face just showed deep sympathy and sadness.

Her Father had died in a car accident many years before.

Glancing at Fang she noticed his face was still set and hard to read, but Max could see the softness in his eyes, about the only part of him that liked to give away his thoughts. He gave her a reassuring, if not slightly sad, half smile and squeezed her shoulder. She returned the smile in the same sadness-tinged way, but she tried to add confidence to it.

Around the table, the kids had abandoned their ice creams and dipped their heads. Iggy still studied his spoon blindly, turning it before him as if he admired the craftsmanship. Both the younger kids sat with their hands in the laps and their heads bowed, and Max could see a solitary tear carving a path down Angel's cheek.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, smoothing it on the table in front of her. "But something else happened," she said just as softly as before, focusing all her attention on decreasing the paper. All of the children glanced at her blindly, more literally for one of them, while her friends tried to peer at the paper.

"Do you remember when that lady followed us to school one day, then spent the evening at home with us?" Max asked as she flattened the rectangular slip of paper on the table. Gasman was the only one that nodded. Another tear was finding its way down Angel's cheek as she stared at her sister in curiosity.

It seemed like a lifetime ago to all of them.

Across the table, Maddie frowned and leant over, trying to see the slip of paper. Max's hands still covered most of it as she flattened the corners down, but she could guess what it was. "Why did the lady give you a cheque?" She asked as she glanced up at Max.

"Don't you remember the woman coming into school?" She asked, but Maddie shook her head. The teen fidgeted slightly in her seat. Sharing private information had never come naturally to her. "She was assessing if…you know how much I do around the house now, right?" her friend nodded. "The woman was from the Youth Carer Association. She was checking I was running the house properly without an able parent. She gave me a cheque because we passed. Now we get…I get money towards bills and everything from the government."

At first her best friend's face seemed to contort into further confusion, possibly hurt for not being included in the circle of people who knew all this detail, before a smile spread across her young face. "That's great news!" She exclaimed so loudly most of the ice cream parlour stopped to stare at them. Max shrunk further down in her chair. "How much do you get?"

"$200 a week, for bills and food and stuff," she replied quietly. The background noise in the parlour was slowly picking back up to a comfortable level. She straightened herself in her seat. "And a cheque for all the two years I missed. This," she held up the paper "Is the receipt from paying it in."

Iggy stuck his spoon in his half melted ice cream, pulling out a mushy lump and raising it to his lips. "I wondered where we detoured to on the way here."

Fang's hand gave her shoulder another squeeze, but this time when Max looked round he had a lopsided grin plastered on his face. _That's great_ it shouted at her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"How much did you get?" Maddie asked impatiently, pulling both teen's eyes to her. Casually, Max picked up the receipt and handed it to her friend, who scanned the paper with keen interest. Her most dropped open, an 'o' shape between her lips.

"Almost twenty THOUSAND DOLARS?"


	44. Tasteful Goodbye

**Alright so, evidentially, I'm not dead. My bunnies apparently weren't back but just decided to pay me a visit. But now, after lots of reviews to make them happy and carrot-cake traps, they seem to be allowing me to write again. For how long, I'm not sure, but enjoy this update at least while I try and bargain with them, eh?**

**Tasteful Goodbye**

It was Friday, and all the snow had finally melted under the warm winter sun. Despite the chill in the air it was a gorgeously sunny morning when Max and her family arrived at the churchyard. For the first time in her life, Max was wearing an ankle length dress. Against all the clothes she owned, it seemed much more fitting for the occasion than a pair of jeans and a dark shirt. She held a small back purse to her middle with one hand, her other grasping her younger sister's small fingers as they waited for the car to arrive.

Off to her left stood Iggy. He was dressed in his Father's old tuxedo, refusing to get a new one just for the occasion, feeling it was more fitting to wear the old tux. He had been silent since they'd arrived at the churchyard, but then they all had. He stood tall and stiff against the chill air, holding his little brother's hand firmly as he waited for the sound of the hearse to pull around the corner.

Other guests had already begun to arrive at the church, clad in black and gathering in quiet groups, waiting for the service to begin. The few friends her Father possessed all came, including his carers and a few old friends from the playschool Max and her brother had attended as small children. His doctor and a few nurses also attended briefly to offer their condolences and hand over flowers.

Max had smiled and thanked them, but the sadness in her eyes was blinding.

A couple of minutes before the hearse was due, Fang arrived. He hadn't known Max's father that well, but he still felt that he should attend, if anything for emotional support. It was evident he made the right decision when Max hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe. He held just as tightly back, his hands now free from crutches, not letting go until her own grip loosened.

When she pulled away he held her shoulders a little longer, looking into her sad eyes, a few wisps of hair escaping from the plait she had wound her hair into. He reached into his pocket before wiping the escaped strands behind her ear, slipping a pin into her hair to hold them there. Raising her hand, Max felt the black rose slide with her fingers, before offering him a gentle, sad smile.

He returned it, then kissed her forehead softly.

The vicar strode into the graveyard just as the hearse pulled up and, though they had arranged for people from the funeral office to carry her father's wicker casket, many people from the crowd volunteered to take her Father's weight on their shoulders and carry him to his final resting place. Iggy took up the rear and followed everyone else's lead, Gasman holding his jacket, too young to otherwise help.

Despite the money that was pending in her bank account, Max had made the decision to keep the funeral simple. There was a single wreath of flowers to be laid on her Father's coffin as he was lowered in and fold-away chairs lined up opposite the hole in the ground she could barely bring herself to look at as she followed her Father's casket up the grass. The vicar had been a friend of her Father's and as such his service today was to be free.

Placing his coffin down in position, Gasman lead his brother back to the seats and sat him next to Max, who instinctively took his hand and stroked the back reassuringly. Iggy turned to look at her, his pale eyes clouding with unshed tears as he gave her a gentle smile.

"A wicker casket," he said gently, giving his elder sister's hand a squeeze. "Dad would have loved it."

She smiled back at him and returned the squeeze. Their father had always been one for saving money and she was sure he wouldn't want them to throw their money away on a dead man, even himself. The vicar took a deep breath and the mourners all quietened their whispered conversations, listening to the man talk about his old friend from school before offering for the family to come up and say a few words.

Angel read the letter she had written for him aloud, her words punctuated with hiccups and sobs. Gasman talked from his heart about all the wonderful things his father had done, and how laid back and easy he was about everything. Iggy reminisced on the time he had told Max she could leave them alone for a few hours and the actions that lead to the trashed house and his broken arm.

Finally, it was Max's turn to take the stand. She had papers tucked into her bag, what she was to say written concisely, but now she stood in front of everyone who had known her Father, she didn't feel she needed them. The thirty-odd attendees watched her with varying levels of grief and pity as she took her first breath.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. Tears began to creep out of her eye sand down her cheeks as she looked down at the casket containing her Father, her rock, and she tried to will the words to come out of her mouth. Swallowing hard, she tried again, but barely a squeak came out before more tears flowed.

Standing, Fang strode over to her and let her collapse into his arms. She sobbed into his shirt as he gently stroked the back of her head. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her head, wrapping his arms tightly around her while she shook with grief. He could feel his shirt being soaked but didn't care as he tried to comfort her.

"Your Father was so proud of you," he whispered gently, rubbing her back gently. Her sobs began to settle as he rocked her gently, his hands rubbing her back and shoulders in an attempt to calm her down. Finally, she pulled from his shirt and excused herself back to her seat, her eyes red raw from tears as she left the spotlight. Fang followed, his hand in hers, and they settled back into their seats,

The vicar took up the head post again. "Henry Martinez told me of his eldest daughter when we met again just a few years ago," he said gently, offering Max a kind smile before continuing. "'Pearson,' he told me. 'Maxine is so much like her Mother was, and much more.' And now I've actually met her, and seen over the last few days how mature and caring she is, I can do nothing but agree with him."

Though tears welled once more, Max smiled up at the vicar. He returned the smile with caring shining in his eyes before continuing. "Your Father was so proud of you," he said softly, "And I can tell you loved him dearly. That is everything you need to say."

Everyone bowed their heads as Henry's favourite song, _Don't Cry For Me Argentina, _began to play quietly across the graveyard. Now composed once again, Max urged the kids to stand with her and approach the casket one last time. Angel laid her letter on the coffin with tears streaming down her face, then clung to Max's leg. Iggy laid a picture of their family on the wicker casket and Gasman placed the wreath he had helped Max pick out just yesterday morning, where he thought his father's chest would be.

Finally, just as the casket began to descend into the its last resting place, Max pulled an old photograph from her purse and flattened out the edges, gazing upon her Father's favourite picture of her Mother. Knowing she had a photocopy of the image at him, she knelt down and placed the picture under the wreath, over his heart, not getting up again until the coffin reached the very bottom of the grave.

This was it. She was on her own.


	45. Homeward Bound

**Oh look...it's another update! My bunnies are being very kind to me as of late.**

**As a general note, I haven't replied to my reviewers in a while, and for that I apologise. I appreciate all of your comments, feedback and stuff, and I SHOULD mention you here and whatnot and show that I am thankful. Unfortunately, I am blessed with my father's Lazy Gene, and as such I tend to fail to do so.**

**Frequently.**

**As of now, every review I get will be answered by PC, since I obviously suck at putting them up here. I PROMISE. On my life, my dog's life and on pain of death, but every reviewer who leaves an account I can reply to with their review (ie, be logged in when you write it...) WILL get a PC in return.**

**If not, I am a failure. And you may PC me saying so. Because I'll still love you anyway.**

**Give me a few days though, eh? **

**So someone asked for a little coping chapter. I haven't been through such a terrible bereavement myself and I apologise to anyone who had that feels this chapter is a load of bull. I based it on how I would feel if I lost my Mother, since I am very close to her, as well as tried to invisage how differently a child of Angel's age would take it compared to Max.**

**I hope I did a good job, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Homeward Bound**

Although they were set to walk home, Fang took it upon himself to pay for the Martinez family to get a taxi back to their house over two hours walk away. The children were exhausted from crying and Iggy had to be led the whole way, being unfamiliar with the roads, so it would be easier to bung them all in a car and get them home quicker.

The firm sent a seven-seater. With more leg room to rest his blind stick in and easier to manoeuvre him in and out of, Iggy was sat next to the driver. Angel and Gasman were strapped into the two seats at the very back of the car, while Max and Fang took a seat on either side of the main compartment, each by a window.

In the middle seat resided all the flowers, cards and condolence gifts people had given them; three bouquets with bereavement cards, a box of candy for the younger children, a photo album of pictures of their mother and father at school from the vicar and a fake black rose from a nurse.

Everyone was silent for the trip home. Both Angel and Gasman fell asleep from exhaustion. Both Max and Fang spent the whole journey staring out the window at the brown grass and leafless trees, while Iggy just stared silently forwards out of the windscreen.

There was just nothing to be said.

When the taxi driver pulled up outside their house, Fang paid the man a good tip while Max helped her blind brother from the car and led him to the doorway. Once he was inside the gate and with a key in hand, Iggy was able to open the door and walk inside on his own, finally around familiar surroundings.

Once he was safely inside, Max returned to the car and picked up a sleeping Angel, feeling her stir only slightly as she raised her from her seat. Silently, Fang did the same for Gasman, the extra weight causing to walk with a slight limp as he approached their front door. The taxi driver closed all the doors as softly as he could, muttered his condolences then pulled sharply away.

Padding softly up the stairs, Max glanced into the living room to see Iggy sat in his Father's chair, a hand on each arm, staring forwards in deep thought. She paused for only a second before continuing up to the landing and heading into Angel's room.

There was nothing she could say to make this better.

"Can I sleep in Dad's bed?" The little girl in her arms asked so softly, Max almost didn't hear her. Still supporting her under her legs, she raised her hand from Angel's back to her hair and stroked it gently, turning from the little girl's room and heading to her Father's instead.

As she passed Fang in the hallway, she nodded into Angel's room. "The bed by the window," she said softly, aware the little boy was still completely out of it. Fang nodded in acknowledgement before she turned into her Father's old room.

Laying her on the old double bed, Max made sure there was a soft pillow under her head before pulling the covers up to the little girl's chin. She curled up tight on the mattress and clutched the duvet to her, burying her face in the material. Perching on the edge of the bed, Max stayed there and stroked her little sister's golden curls until her breathing subsided into a gentle rhythm.

She leant over and kissed the girl's head before leaving, pulling the curtains shut on her way.

In the hall, Fang leant against the banister, marvelling at the tiny house the Martinez family was crammed into. They had so many spare rooms in Mike's house, and yet there didn't even contain a bad to use as a guest room. They remained empty and dusty, wasted on such a tiny family.

He glanced up as Max pulled the bedroom door shut behind her. She crossed in front of him and peeked in on Gasman. Fang had tucked him into bed and pulled the curtains above him, leaving him in semi-darkness, as she had done Angel. With a slight smile, Max pulled that door up too, before turning back on Fang.

"When do you have to be home?" She asked quietly, motioning for him to follow her down the stairs. He did so quietly she wasn't sure he was following til she paused on the stairs to look around. The difference in height between the steps was causing him to wince and he was much slower than her, but he didn't complain.

Once they both got to the bottom, Fang answered: "Don't have a curfew." What he didn't add was _because Mike is out of town this weekend_. After Nudge's accident Mike had decided he would take her on a weekend away and, thankfully for Fang, he had decided to go away this weekend. He would be gone til Monday evening, giving both him and his mother the space they desperately needed.

Max may have seen a little of Mike's nasty side, but she didn't need to hear all of it just yet.

The teen nodded once before folding her arms uncomfortably across her chest, rubbing her forearms slowly and staring around the hall, as if lost. After a few second she looked back at Fang, catching his eyes. "You want to stay for dinner?"

He offered her a gentle smile. "Sure." It coaxed a smile out of her, but the teen still looked uneasy. Her lips may have said she was happy, but her eyes were refusing to agree with them. Their usual spark was gone, replaced by a dullness one might attribute to shock. She was trying to be strong but inside, Fang could tell, she was falling apart.

Fang let a smirk quirk up his mouth. "How about I cook?" He suggested, fully expecting the raised eyebrow he received. He raised his hands defensively, mock defensiveness on his face. "I know, I don't look like I can cook. But I can. And you need a break, so why not?"

"I don't need a break," the teen interjected defensively, her expression twisting into a frown. She held her arms out to her sides, motion to herself as she did so, never dropping Fang's gaze. "I'm perfectly fine."

His eyes scanned over her briefly before meeting her eyes once more, his expression soft. "Max," he said carefully. "You're not. Your hands are shaking."

Caught off guard, she opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. It was something her Father would have said when she were exhausted or stressed, after feeling her hand. Tears began to well up in her eyes again and she couldn't find the energy to move from her position.

Taking a step forwards, Fang gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You can crumble a while," he said softly, drawing her face up to his. Her bloodshot eyes were filling with more tears, her lip quivering with emotion. "You just lost your Father. No one expects you to remain stoic."

"But who'll…" she started, but Fang raised a finger to her lips before pulling her into a hug, letting her rest her head against his chest for the second time that afternoon. She clung to him before he even replied, letting the tears roll silently from her eyes.

"You be the kid's rock," he said gently, resting his cheek on her head. "And I'll be yours."


	46. Coping

**It's gone midnight. I should have been in bed a while ago, since I've been awake since 8am and did a 9hr shift at work.**

**But I love you so much, I wrote another update. You lucky people. You should really gift my bunnies some carrot cake or something. Before they run away again.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Coping**

Though he had only promised to be her rock, it seemed having Fang within the household that evening was a lift on everyone's spirits.

As promised, he took to the kitchen and made them dinner with whatever he could find. They ended up having Bob the Builder pasta shapes with a rich tomato sauce he made from scratch and meatballs knocked together from mince in the freezer and eggs as a kind of glue. Everyone praised his cooking, Max included, and Iggy demanded he write down the recipe so Gazzy could read it to him at a later date.

After dinner the whole family gathered around their Father's old chair. Fang was given the honour to sit in the armchair and Max on his lap. A dining char was brought in and sat opposite them for Iggy, and Gasman and Angel took up an arm each as Max went through an album of their family from toddlers to teens, explaining each picture to Iggy until he remembered the scene.

There was so much laughter. The reminiscing went on late into the night, until the little ones could barely keep their eyes open. Leaving Iggy and Fang in the living room, Max picked up Angel's already sleeping form and led Gasman up the stairs, going to tuck them in for the night.

In Henry's old armchair, Fang closed the last photo album with a soft thud, once again hiding the pictures of Max, her Father and Iggy with the two youngest kids, Angel still just a baby. Their mother was missing from this picture, and sadness seemed to play even in the blind members' eyes.

The family had come full circle once again.

He placed the album on the arm of the chair just as Iggy straightened, now aware Max was out of earshot. "Nick," he said softly, pulling the boy's attention to his sightless eyes. The blind boy's face was set seriously, a look that had become almost permanent since his Father had passed, but on his previously gleeful face looked out of place. "Can I ask you something?"

The teen nodded, before remembering the boy opposite him was blind. He straightened in the arm chair and cleared his throat, wringing his hands in his lap. "Sure," he responded just as quietly, not sure why they were whispering, but feeling it would be too awkward to return his question louder.

Iggy lent forwards on his elbows, using his knees to prop them up. "You….actually love Max, right?" he asked rather awkwardly, his face slipping from serious to a twitching uneasiness. His mouth set somewhere between a quirky smile and a grimace as he asked, his unblinking eyes staring at the teen across from him. "You're not going to fuck her about?"

To be fair, Fang was a little taken aback by the question, and hadn't even contemplated a response when Iggy continued: "Since she's been fucked about enough recently, it would be nice if you didn't like, suddenly dump her or whatever. That," he said a little more offhandedly, stretching his hands out before him and straightening his back once again. "And It's my duty to ask. I'm her brother after all. If you fuck her about, I get to fuck with your face."

He couldn't help it. Fang smirked. "Even though you can't see me?"

"I don't have to _see_ to know where you are," the pale boy commented calmly, leaning back in his dining chair. He motioned to the boy before him with an absent hand-flick, relaxing in his seat. "You're sat square in the middle of the seat, most likely upright by now. At your height your head would just overshoot the headrest, and I know how tall the headrest is, so I could hit you square in the face if I wanted to."

Fang raised an eyebrow before turning in his seat to check, not too surprised but more concerned that the boy was correct. He dropped his eyebrow back to normal and looked back at the lad again. "Same defence classes as Max?"

Across from him, the lad smiled. "More focused on assumption and hearing, but yes."

Fang smirked back. "You're both very scary."

"We try," Iggy commented lightly, but his smile had extended into a grin. "But seriously though." He added, the smile fading back to stone seriousness. "If you fuck about with Max, I assure you, you won't have any idea what day it is when I'm done with you."

The tan boy raised his hands defensively, forgetting the action would be lost on Iggy. "I solemnly swear on the fact its Tuesday-" "Friday." Iggy grinned, and Fang mirrored it. "-Friday, that I will not, and I quote, 'fuck about with Max'."

"Who's not doing _what_ with me?" Though Iggy didn't move a muscle, Fang physically jumped, not expecting Max to be back in the doorway. Claming a hand over his mouth, Iggy stood from his chair as he muffled his snorts of laughter. He couldn't take his hand from his mouth til he reached the doorway, at which point he excused himself to bed and hurried up the stairs, leaving Fang to deal with Max's questioning gaze.

He didn't care if the boy was blind. Iggy was going to _die_ for that.


	47. Housework Elf

**Here's another one. I was gunna wait til I had 400 reviews, but then I'm an impatient person when I have something to post, so you get it earlier. XD Probably would have gotten it tomorrow morning if I had waited, but oh well.**

**Anyway, I'm 3 chapters away from 50 and just over 5,000 words away from 100,000 words in the word document. I'll try to hit both landmarks at the same time, and then I'll start a new document afresh, since it takes me a good five minutes do delete all the previous updates now XD**

**Thank you all for reading thus far. I hope you're all still enjoying it. :3**

**Chapter 47**

It had been so long since Fang had truly relaxed, the act of doing so almost set him back on edge. For what seemed like years now, but in reality was barely two months, he and his Mother had lived in a constant level of stress and anxiety under his Stepfather's roof. They had to watch every word and action in case it upset Mike and one of them gained yet another bruise or wound.

But her, sprawled across Max's couch, there was nothing that could harm him. Mike was away for the weekend so his Mother was in no danger. His mind was empty and carefree as he lay there staring at the ceiling, one hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around Max's back.

He honestly couldn't ever remember being happier.

Once Iggy had gone to bed and Fang had made a mental note to kill him in his sleep, he had excused himself to phone his Mum, who agreed that he could stay out until Monday if he wanted, as long as he came home from school as normal that afternoon. That way it would appear nothing was amiss to Mike upon his return.

With too much on her mind to be tired, he had sat up with Max til the very earlier hours watching old cartoons and a few movies they could find on the television. Now it was three in the morning and she still didn't seem to be able to fall asleep, but at least she was dozing on his chest rather than unable to even think about closing her eyes. The television remained on in the corner but was muted, just the light flickering over them occasionally.

A few seconds later and Max stirred again, taking in a deep breath as she fidgeted, trying to get comfortable once more. She wrapped a leg over his like it was the most natural thing in the world and nuzzled further into his shirt, burying her face in the material. Every time she dropped off, she stayed out for a little longer before stirring.

She was finally falling asleep.

Thankfully, she was awake enough to hear his suggest she should go to bed. She wasn't awake enough to argue either, thankfully, and allowed herself to be led up the stairs, her hand in his, and settled into her bed.

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It crossed Fang's mind that she would probably be annoyed that she fell asleep in her clothes, considering she seemed to own a few hundred pairs of pyjamas, but he didn't think she would appreciate him changing her into a pair either. A mild blush at the thought of seeing her naked crossed his cheeks, and then he pulled her covers up to her chin, stopping only to kiss her lightly on the head before heading back down to the couch to get some sleep himself.

It had been a long day.

oOoOo

Both emotionally and physically exhausted from the last few days, Max didn't wake up until 10am the following day. That said, she didn't know what time it was until she went downstairs, since someone seemed to have unplugged the alarm that was supposed to wake her at seven. Sometimes Gasman would steal the batteries from it for a toy, or Iggy would use a component of it to make something broken work again.

But her gut told her none of the kids had anything to do with it.

On the stairs Max could hear the TV on the Kid's Channel, playing out the corny theme music of Angel's favourite cartoon about ponies. She sat blued to the screen with a pony toy in each hand, cross-legged on the floor.

Usually at this time on a Saturday, the living room had begun to look like a tip. There would be video cases piled up on the coffee table that Angel and Gasman had decided to start watching, then changed their mind a little way in and put a different one on. Accompanying this first pile would be a pile of rejected cassettes on the carpet, usually knocked flying before long, as well as toys scattered about the carpet and used cups, bowls and mugs littering any available space.

Max's mouth actually fell open. The room was spotless.

Walking round the back she found Iggy sat at the dining room table, reading a braille book, a glass of water next to him. Gasman was kneeling on a seat opposite his older brother with a large mixing bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, beating a bright blue gooey mixture with as much gusto as his skinny child arms would allow.

Iggy glanced in her direction, reaching for his glass. "Morning, Max." He said brightly, gulping half of the glass' contents before continuing. "You slept well." The last statement held a tone of amusement, and this was when she asked what the time was. Gasman showed her his old, bettered watch when she didn't believe him it was gone ten.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" She asked, annoyance scenting her tone. She held her arms out in exasperation as Iggy put his glass back down and returned to reading his book. "You know I have chores to do, and we need to go sho-"

It was then Fang poked his head around the kitchen door. "Um…morning?" He ventured, unsure whether he should admit to unplugging her alarm straight off, or if it was better to ride out her anger in little waves. Her gaze shifted to him and he offered her a little smile, hoping it would melt a little of her anger.

Thankfully, it seemed to work.

Max let out a sigh. "Why did you unplug my alarm?" she asked in a much calmer tone, dropping her arms to her sides. Fang dropped his smile, now aware she already guessed it was him, but grateful she seemed not to be too angry with him. "I have too many chores to do, and we need to go grocery and Christmas shopping today."

"Christmas?" Gasman asked excitedly, his concentration finally pulled away from the bright blue goo he had been beating with all his might. His eyes glowed at the idea of presents and Christmas Pudding and the bowl was discarded on the table without a second's thought. "But I haven't written my Christmas list yet! And neither has Angel!"

His elder sister nodded her head towards the stairs. "Better get to it then, eh?" she said with a smile, and the kid jumped from his seat and shot into the living room to rouse his sister from her pony-related coma. At the table, Iggy closed his book with a soft thud. "I hope for your sake we are going Christmas shopping," he said as he stood from the table. "Or Gasman will never forgive you."

Nodding, Max turned her gaze back to Fang. "We would be leaving about now if _someone_ hadn't unhooked my alarm." She stated as she started towards the kitchen, not breaking the tan boy's gaze. "Now we're going to have to wait til I finish my chores."

"What chores?" Iggy asked with a smirk as he slipped past his sister, heading for the hallway. "I'm going to go get dressed for some shopping!" He added brightly before skipping out into the hallway and up the stairs, the mock excitement making Max cringe. His door slammed a few seconds later, and silence fell over the teens in the dining room.

Max was the first to break it. "I have washing to do, and dishes to clean," she started, heading into the kitchen but not surveying it. She turned her back to the room to keep eye contact with the taller boy, annoyance still playing in her eyes. "As well as vacuuming, dusting and a kitchen to clean."

Opening his mouth to interject, Fangw as interrupted. "And I know you cleaned the living room, and that was nice of you, but Saturday is the day I clean every room downstairs, so I still have a lot to do." Silenced, Fang closed his mouth and shrugged, motioning for her to get started, before slipping out of the kitchen and heading for the living room. Sighing, Max turned to survey the mess in the kitchen.

Her mouth dropped open for the second time in ten minutes.

The counters were spotless and the sink was empty. Even the stove top and the microwaves had been cleaned and polished til not a fleck of dust remained. Everything had been dried and stacked away in their proper places, there was two loads of washing drying on the clothes horse out by the washing machine and another load was close to completion. The clothes that had been drying had been folded and stacked according to recipient.

Returning to the dining room, the only things out of place were the book Iggy had abandoned and the bowl of blue goo Gasman had been vigorously stirring. The table had been polished to a perfect shine and all of the placemats and cutlery had been returned to their rightful places. There was no sign breakfast had ever happened that morning, and every bowl was accounted for in the cupboard.

That left just the living room and, although she knew it was already clean as a whistle, she went back to check it over anyway. Now devoid of Angel, her toys had been placed back in her toy box and pushed under the coffee table. The TV had been switched over to the weather, and Fang was sprawled on the couch.

She went to speak, but an incoherent, confused mumble was all that managed to immerge from her lips. Looking up at her, Fang let mock surprise cover his face as he sat up. "Done already?" He asked her, humour playing in his eyes. "That was fast."

He stood as she rolled her eyes at the comment, but he could tell she was still bemused that the house had been cleaned for her. She opened her mouth to speak, but he a finger to her lips to silence her, taking it away to kiss her gentle on the lips.

When he pulled away, she was blushing. "Because you need a break," he answered her unasked question, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her close. The action caught her off guard and she fell a little into his chest, correcting herself before she did a complete faceplant into his shirt. When she looked up at him the colour in her cheeks had faded, but she didn't look annoyed.

"You didn't have to," she said softly. Fang smirked a heart-melting smile, and she couldn't help but return it, slipping her own arms around his waist and holding him close. She liked the feel of his warm body pressed to his, even if it was unfamiliar.

He brushed a few strands of hair from her face, gazing into her eyes. "I wanted to," he said just a softly, returning his arm to her waist now her hair was tamed. Staring back into his eyes, Max felt her heart flutter a little, but she would never admit it. "Mind if I come shopping with you?"

"Of course not," she grinned as Angel and Gasman galloped down the stairs with their list of 'ideas' for what they wanted for Christmas. "But this time, I'm paying for the taxi."


	48. Meetings at the Mall

**Oh. My. God. It's another update.**

**Oh. My. Smurfs. It's over 2,500 words long.**

**Hey! Look at that! A long update! I bet you were wondering when one of these was going to happen again. Well, now you know. It needed to be long to cover everything I wanted to cover in this chapter , as well as a little drama and the meeting to two girls who would probably rather their lines never crossed. Anyway, here it is, and it has a break point in there somewhere, so it shouldnt just be a wall of text/**

**Enjoy. Please R&R with carrot cake. It makes the bunnies happy. :3**

**Meetings at the Mall**

That close to Christmas, the mall was heaving with people desperately trying to finish their shopping before the day crept up on them. None wanted to be forced to panic-buy their presents in the last few days before they were due to be under the tree. This made Max nervous about sending the kids off on their own to get things, but Iggy promised to take good care of them.

Just to put her mind at ease, Fang handed Iggy his mobile phone, inputting Max's number beforehand. He showed both of the younger kids how to find her number in the address book before letting them leave to find Max something. They agreed a time and place to meet and, once they were into the nearest store, Max unfolded the present lists the three kids had handed her and scanned them.

She sighed, pulling Fang's attention to her. "Angel wants a pony," she said softly, scanning the rest of the little girl's list. Glancing over Max's shoulder, he read over the list too, picking out a doll, a few plushies and a few games she could easily afford.

"Every little girl wants a pony," he rationalised as Max circled some of the things he'd picked out mentally with the pen in her purse. Max turned and gave him her best 'I never wanted a pony' look. He smirked and wrapped his arms around her, adding: "My step-sister wants a pony too. It seems to be a common desire for little girls."

Max took a deep breath. "Well," she said as she released it, slipping her list behind Gasman's and reading through that one. Gasman's list was much simpler, with science kits and dinosaur models dominating the list. "She'll have to deal with another toy or plush horse," she said as she circled a few kits. "I hope that'll keep her happy."

Resting his chin on her shoulder, Fang pressed his cheek to hers, scanning Gasman's list as she circled a few items. "What about you?" he asked as she flipped to Iggy's list and began scanning over it. "Did you make a list?"

She barely seemed to flinch. "I never make a list," she said simply, circling a new braille book on Iggy's list. His list was sparse compared to the others, as it always was, not just because there wasn't much that took his interest but because he knew they had a tight budget. She circled a couple of other things, including a speaking watch he'd asked for a few years straight they could now afford, before finishing with: "They just get me whatever."

Gazing over Max's lists at the rest of the people in the shopping centre, Fang silently wondered how Christmas in the Mustofa household would go. With Mike in charge of the finances, his Mother would be unable to go out and get him anything. All he gave her money for was groceries, and took back any change the second he got home.

He even checked the receipts. Tight bastard.

Snapping back to the present, he looked down and noted she was checking the lists again. She'd crossed out a few things and circled some others, trying to equal out the amount she would spend on each child. "There must be something you want," he interrupted her thoughts as she folded the paper and slipped them back in her purse, tightening his grip around her waist and rocking her gently from side to side. "Something I can get you?"

Placing her hands over his, Max closed her eyes and let him sway her body, forgetting for a second she was in a bustling mall, breathing in his scent. He was a little bit ripe, since he'd slept on the couch, and she made a mental note to offer him the use of their shower when they returned home. "Surprise me," she said finally, tilting her head back to towards him to catch his eyes. "Go find me something while I shop for the kids."

Fang smirked. "How about I take a list and do it for you as well," he suggested, pecking her on the cheek before taking his hands from her waist. Turning to face him, Max shook her head, a smile still plastered on her face.

"You've already done too much today," she said, slipping onto her tiptoes to peck his lips. She took a few steps backwards, reaching into her bag to remove one of the lists again. "Meet you back here in three hours?" She asked, waiting for him to nod before turning on her heels and heading into the sea of shoppers.

He lost sight of her pretty quickly, yet he tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled stupidly at the crowd for a few seconds afterwards, a happy flutter disrupting his brain function. He'd never felt this happy with Brigid, yet he thought he'd found the girl for him when they were together.

Was this love?

oOoOo

After much mental debate and a lot of window-shopping, Fang came to the conclusion the best thing he could get her was a necklace. He'd only ever gotten one present for Brigid when they were together, and she'd worn it for just a day before admitting she hated it. She swapped the necklace he bought her for a belly ring, one she would not be able to wear now she was pregnant. The fact she couldn't made him smile a little, even if it did make him feel a little evil.

He spent an hour searching the windows of the jewellery shops he finally settled on the one right at the back of the mall. Unlike the others, which were all specialised in expensive stones and crystal, this one sold everything from high class to cheap but elegant. With a final look in the window he stepped inside to look at the wider range of necklaces they had.

Another hour later and he was sure he had found the perfect pendant. It was a simple silver heart, the chain coming off the left side so it hung lightly to the right rather than dead centre. The heart itself was thin silver and just an outline, the centre clear except for just three inset silver circles that joined together at the top-right corner. Inset in each circle was a tiny diamond, glistening when they caught the light.

The sales assistant turned to get a non-display model, leaving Fang to flick through his wallet and find the money he needed. It would cost him most of the money he had saved from his lunch money, along with the funds he had left from his allowance, when he still had one back with his real Dad.

About the only thing he ever did right.

Upon his return, the assistant flashed Fang the necklace in its box. It looked even more prefect on the blue satin cushion, surrounded by a black box, and he nodded in approval. The assistant flashed him a bright smile and closed the box, slipping it into a small bag and holding it out to him. Fang took it as he handed over almost all the money he had, $300, thanked the man and turned to leave.

He was stopped in his tracks by someone he didn't expect to see. Her arms were folded over her slight bump, blindingly obvious in the tight dress she was wearing. Raising an eyebrow, Fang noted with distaste it barely covered anything, cutting quite high on her thighs, and wondered what she was wearing.

She'd dressed much more modestly when they were dating.

"That's an expensive present," Brigid observed. "I saw you staring at it in the window for a good fifteen minutes. Put a lot of thought into it." The jealousy in her eyes and stature was plain to see, and Nickolas was uncomfortable with the attention she was pulling them in the small store. Maybe she'd expected him not to move on that fast, but he wasn't one to get caught up on someone as fickle as her.

Brigid dropped her arms to her sides. "Is she pretty?" She asked, her voice slightly spiteful. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip anxiously, unconsciously placing a hand on her bump. "She must be, to be worth that much debilitation. Did you put that much thou-"

"I did," he interrupted her, and she stopped with her mouth still slightly open. He took a step towards the door, pausing within earshot, but not giving her the decency of his eye contact. "Two hours," he said simply, sighing softly on the end. "But you don't appreciate sentiment, only value."

And with that, he walked out, leaving her alone in the jewellery store.

As he walked towards the nearest toy store, hoping to run into Max early, he wondered how long his Father and Brigid planned to stay before returning home. Now he thought about it, he didn't know how long they planned to stay, or where they were staying, but he hoped they would leave soon.

When he couldn't find any of the Martinez family, Fang settled on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the complex with a cup of coffee and waited. It wasn't long til Max found him, loaded down with so many bags he was surprised she could walk at all.

With a little foresight he'd folded the jeweller's bag and slipped both that and the necklace into his inside pocket, only carrying a bag from the coffee shop. Though she raised an eyebrow at him she didn't ask if her present had come from Cafe Nero and instead joined him in sipping coffee, waiting for the kids and Iggy to return.

While they sat there, he couldn't stop thinking about his ex-girlfriend turning up at the mall. He had expected them to leave town once they had rubbed their relationship in his and his Mother's face, but here she was in the shopping centre, bleeding jealousy all over the floor, and making his life more difficult yet again.

After about twenty minutes, he let out a sigh. "My Father and Brigid finally made it," he said suddenly, his voice lost in the general hubbub of the mall. She glanced over at him as she sipped her coffee, expecting a rant about them.

"She's pregnant, and it might be mine." Without warning, she chocked in shock on the coffee, some of the warm liquid shooting out of her nose and into the fountain. Embarrassed, she pressed her sleeve to her face to cover the liquid dripping from her nose and mouth, wiping it quickly away, glad Fang hadn't looked around when he said it. He was still staring off into the distance at the sea of shoppers, seemingly lost in thought.

When he did look around, she had managed to compose herself again. "Only might?" She asked curiously, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer. Fang shrugged offhandedly, his eyes not leaving hers. "It might be my Father's," he added a little quieter. "She was…sleeping with us both at the date the doctor had suggested."

Without meaning to, Max's mouth fell open a little in surprise. She sat there for a good ten seconds with her mouth catching flies, not breaking Fang's gaze, before she had to consciously close her mouth again, shaking her head slightly. "She…I'm sorry, she was _what_?"

"Yeah," he replied, turning his attention back to the crowd. "Its compli- shit. She's coming over."

Max looked up, surprised. "They're still here?" She asked, following his gaze even though she didn't know what his ex-girlfriend looked like. "I thought they would have gone home once they'd told you that little nugget of joy."

"Apparently not," he commented, tucking his coffee into the empty paper bag they had given him and standing. He offered to take Max's cup for her, and she slipped it into the bag after downing the last of the warm coffee. "And she's pissed I have a girlfriend."

It was plainly obvious she was pissed. Brigid's pretty face was created in anger as she stormed towards Fang. Max finally placed which girl he was referring to when she noticed the obvious baby bulge under her too-tight white dress. That and she grabbed Fang's shoulder when she reached him and pulled him around to face her rather forcefully.

Since he was rather handsome, it was no surprise to Max that he had dated a pretty girl in his last school. In her slutty white dress and long, red locks she had a lot of resemblance to Lissa. She wondered if that's why Fang had refused the popular girl's affections.

"_That's_ your rebound girl?" She shouted, pulling the attention of nearby shoppers. Fang pulled her hand from his shoulder in one easy motion, but it didn't faze her. "She's not even fucking pretty! Is that the best you can do now?"

Still seated at the fountain, Max found herself flinching away from the criticism. She had never thought of herself as pretty, or even felt the need to look pretty before now, but hearing it from another's mouth was harsher than noticing her flaws in the mirror.

Though he usually kept his cool, Fang snapped. "You," he shouted, basically silencing the immediate area of conversation and pulling yet more attention to their argument. "You," he repeated a little softer, his anger simmering. "Are the one who decided I wasn't good enough and slept with my _Father_, so don't you fucking _dare_ talk to me like that.

"I'm done with you," he finished, leaning over to pick up some of Max's bags. "Your opinion means shit to me." Max had grabbed the rest of the bags and started for their meeting place already, leaving him behind. He turned to leave himself, but paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Do me a favour and fuck off, and take your husband with you." He added, spreading the bags he grabbed between both hands. With that he followed Max, not once looking back.

The kids arrived back at the meeting point bang on time. Iggy was holding a few bags more than usual, but Max had given him more money than the other years, now they had extra dollars to spare. They ordered a taxi and headed back home to drop it all off and have a quick rest before going food shopping, yet another chore for the day over.

While they packed the presents into a hiding place, neither teen discussed what had happened at the fountain that afternoon. When we went to the bathroom, Max found herself staring into the mirror, searching her face for flaws, running her hands over her jaw and cheekbones. She had her mother's face, almost square with high cheekbones and a wide jawline. Coupled with her lank, straight dull blonde hair, she was nothing compared to Brigid, with heart-shaped face and long red curls.

Though she didn't cry about such a trivial matter, an emptiness settled in the bottom of Max's stomach. She leant in and studied her dark brown eyes, hoping to find a swirl of a lighter colour in them, but they remained dull and pure brown under her scrutiny. Then she pulled back and shook her head, walking out of the bathroom without a second glance.

_Why do I care?_ She thought to herself. She walked back into her bedroom to see Fang stacking boxes in the bottom of her wardrobe, where she hid the presents, and a flutter spread through her chest. _Do I care because of him?_ She wondered as she knelt down to help him. She handed him the last box and he took it from her with a smile, one she couldn't help but mirror. Another flutter spread through her stomach, and she felt a blush touch her cheeks.

_Is this what love feels like?_


	49. Thoughts and Feelings

**Welcome to another update. I hope you're sitting comfortably.**

**This one is a little shorter than the last, and the next chapter will be short to cut at exactly 100,000 words on my word document. I'm wondering if I should keep going on this story, or make a new one and split it into two stories now the worst of the drama is out of the way, but I think it would be better to remain as one story...I dunno.**

**Anyway, here's another update. For FAXers reading this, the FAX is kicking off a little more now, so I hope you enjoy this and the next update.**

**Also...question. what would be the general reaction to me writing a lemon, or would you rather the lemon was implied and wasn't physically written? It wont be too soon that this comes up, but I was just wondering, so I can work it into the plot or whatever.**

**Anyway, thanks, and enjoy :3**

* * *

**Thoughts and Feelings**

Since money had been tight for so long in the Martinez household, they had an extensive collection of gift boxes that saw the light of day around Christmas time. For birthdays, since they were spread out and cost less, wrapping paper would be bought, but for Christmas the boxes were a cheaper option. Until then, they were tucked under Max's bed, waiting to be used.

Max always bought the most presents, buying for the whole family, so she got first use of the boxes every year. Now all the presents were boxed and labelled, the remaining boxes were to be placed on Angel's pillow, the designated wrapper for the rest of the family, and then the remainder would be tucked safely back in Max's room til the following year.

While they were stacking the presents in her closet, Fang had asked if he could stay another night. He didn't want to leave Max on her own just yet, and he was rather enjoying living in the Martinez household. The kids seemed to have adjusted to their Father's death much better than either he or Max had expected. They'd been playing Monopoly rather loudly since they returned home, almost as if nothing were any different to every other year.

He was delighted Max told him he was welcome any time in their house. He got on well with the kids and, despite the slight chance he would murder Iggy in his sleep, they all seemed to enjoy his company. Once all the boxes were packed away and the remainder were stacked to be taken into Angel's room, she offered him the use of their shower and her towel, which he gratefully accepted.

Dropping the empty boxes on Angel's bed, Max stayed in the room only to fish a pair of joggers from Iggy's wardrobe, so Fang could use them as pyjamas. With that she slipped back into her own room and laid the trousers out on her bed. Fang had already locked himself in the bathroom and she could hear the shower beating loudly on the tiles next to the bath, meaning he'd wasted no time in washing off the last few days' dirt and grime.

She found his clothes folded neatly on her pillow. Smiling slightly she slipped her shirt over her head. She's already decided the food shopping could wait til tomorrow as she dropped her shirt haphazardly onto Fang's tidy pile, planning to wash them tonight and hang them up to dry. Next she slipped from her jeans and dropped them on top of her shirt, pulling a drawer open to fish out a pair of pyjamas.

A glance sideways and she caught her reflection in her vanity mirror, bent over the drawer in just her underwear. She straightened and the top half of her body overshot the mirror, leaving just her stomach, a few ribs and the tops of her thighs to be reflected. Her ribs stuck out under her skin, causing it to curve inwards rather sharply to cover her concave stomach. Her hip bones also jutted out of her frail frame before her skin swept down over her thighs, which were barely any thicker than her calves.

Whether it was just baby weight, or she had always been like that Max didn't know, but Brigid had been better built than her. While Max's hips were barely any wider than her ribcage at its largest point and she remained a B cup in bra size, Brigid had curves in all the right places, and her breasts had been an easy two, if not three, sizes larger than Max's meagre pair. She turned to the side and scrutinised her thin frame again, counting the ribs she could see and running a finger along her prominent collarbone.

Was being this thin attractive, or even normal?

Before she met Fang she had no inclination to worry about being attractive, but now I was playing on her mind. A few more seconds studying her figure and Max decided she didn't like herself this skinny. Being able to see that many ribs so clearly made her feel a little sick. She made a mental note to try and eat more and returned to fishing out a camisole and a pair of shorts for pyjamas.

oOoOo

In the bathroom Fang had just turned off the shower and was roughly towel drying his hair. After thirty seconds he wrapped the towel around his waist and ran a hand through the matted mess on his head, glancing into the mirror.

The glass had steamed up with the shower. Wiping off the condensation with his forearm, Fang tilted his head to study the scar under his left eye. It was still vividly noticeable against his tan skin as he ran a finger along its length, tilting his head the other way to study the mark on his right side. It had almost faded to nothing, along with the bruise he's sported after Nudge's accident.

His Step-Father had decided Fang had told the girl to go on her own, and not bothered to walk her to her friend's house. That required punishment via beating, and that was exactly what Mike had delivered. Most of the marks were on his chest and back, easy to hide, but the bright shiner on his face had been impossible to cover.

He had put it down to people at school. Thankfully, Nudge had believed him.

Studying the rest of his body, Fang was glad to see the other marks had also faded. The massive scar on his inner thigh was still just as vivid as the one on his face, if not a little more ragged, in no way a clean cut line. All of the other bumps and bruises he had acquired, however, were as good as gone.

He ran his hand through his hair again. While he liked to keep it longer, it was beginning to reach past his shoulders at the back, meaning it would become a pain to maintain in the near future. He hoped he had enough money left for a haircut left in his wallet as he unlocked the bathroom door, heading back into Max's room to find his clothes.

Pushing the door open, Fang froze in the doorway. On the other side of the room, by the dresser, was Max. She had a tiny pair of shorts on, similar to the pair she had answered the door in so many weeks ago, but in a soft lilac colour with a white trim. He'd walked in just as she raised her arms over her head, letting the light material of her matching camisole float down over her bare back, covering the breast her angle was allowing him to view.

Fang ducked back out of the room again, hiding behind the door, his hand still on the handle. His heart-rate had shot through the roof and he felt like taking a cold shower as a blush spread across his nose and began to warm his cheeks. This was a very familiar sensation, one he had experienced most times he'd seen Brigid, and one that intensified every time she had spread herself naked across his bed.

He shook his head vigorously, dispelling growing images of Max without her camisole or shorts, her hair scattered around her head on the pillow like a halo. The warmth such images created shot through his body and he shifted uncomfortably in just her towel.

Brigid. He had never loved her, just craved her. The infatuation he felt around Max was something he had never experienced with his ex, who used to invoke feelings like _this_ every time he saw her. He'd lusted after her, and he got her, but he should have seen she would never have stayed.

Chancing a look back in Max's room, he was glad to see she was now fully clothed, even if the shorts and camisole combination didn't leave much to his imagination. Confident she hadn't seen him, Fang locked himself back in the bathroom and turned the shower temperature way down.

He'd deal with this problem the old fashioned way, and hope his mind could behave for the evening.


	50. Returning Home

**I've kept up this 'update a day' thing for nearly a whole week now. I'm seriously amazed, and I bet you are too.**

**What's also amazing is this is Chapter 50. Who would have thought I'd make it this far on an idea I had on the train home from London? But here were are, surpassing 100,000 words of story and such a landmark chapter, and I feel...a little teary-eyed. This story is far from over, and yet it's still gotten so grown up.**

***sniffle***

**While there is some FAX-y fluff in this Chapter, warnings for this update: Violence and insinuated rape. If you don't like it, don't read it, ok?**

**Thank you all who have stuck with me this far, and those that have found us during the story and added it to their favourites. Not just the reviewers, who I love for giving me feedback and crap, but the other 200 odd of you that have this story on their alert list and still quite possibly read it every time I update.**

**Also, this update is epicly long, 3,500 words, but there are breaks so you can have a breather ;D**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**Chapter 50**

With the last of the ingredients in the pantry Fang whipped up a soup and rolls for dinner. It wasn't as fancy as the dinner the night before, but to kids who had lived on Max's filling but bland cooking all their lives, it tasted like heaven in a bowl. Once again Iggy demanded he wrote down the recipe, this time for Max to read later, so they could have it after he was gone.

In Martinez household tradition, Saturday night was spent alternating between cards, TV and board games until the little kids were too tired to care anymore. It was about 10pm when Gasman, determined to stay awake til midnight for the first time, fell asleep in Iggy's lap as they watched a re-run of iCarly. Angel had fallen asleep an hour before.

So much for seeing in the next day.

After she'd tucked them into bed, Max tiptoed back downstairs to continue playing cards. Normally she, Iggy and her father would have continued on at this point, but now her Father was gone she would probably retire once the youngsters were in bed. This week, however, they had Fang to fill a place, so the party would continue.

Fang's family had never been one for games. They'd had backgammon and Uno back at his old house down south, but he only ever played them with friends who came to visit, and not many of them came around his place. He preferred to keep them away, in case his Father had another lady friend around and they started asking awkward questions.

They stayed up much later than usual, til 2am as opposed to midnight, teaching Fang a wide variety of card games and noting down the rules for him. He seemed to have a knack with cards and started winning matches after the first few rounds of each game, thoroughly enjoying himself, the whole experience basically new to him.

He'd have to teach him Mum how to play.

Finally, Iggy's eyes began to droop, and Max could feel exhaustion creeping at her brain. With one last hand of Go Fish, which Fang would have won if Iggy hadn't asked for Queens, they set the cards aside for the night and headed to bed. Iggy padded up the stairs first while Max packed the cards away into the box. Behind her, Fang flopped on the couch and rolled onto his back, eyes closed against the dim living room lights.

Max slid the cards into their space on the bookshelf before turning to face him. He looked oddly comfortable on the sofa, as if it were the softest bed in the world, not a springy 20 year old hand-me-down from her Grandfather. She gave a gentle cough and grab his attention, and Fang lazily peeled the lid off of one eye to acknowledge her.

She bit her lip and turned her head slightly away, rubbing her left arm nervously. "The sofa isn't very comfy," she said, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the wall, still rubbing her arm uncomfortably. She flexed the fingers of her left hand as she tried to find the words. "You could, you know…uh…"

"The sofa's fine," the boy smirked, opening his other eye. She turned to look at him fully and her awkward arm-rubbing stopped. A little cough and Max was looking away again, her hands playing with the hem of her shirt. "But if you want…"

Her gaze returned to his. "If I want..?"

Pulling himself upright on the sofa, Fang held up his hands defensively. "I make a good body-warmer," he said with such a straight face, and Max couldn't help but smile a little. "And it's rather cold tonight. If you want…I could…"

Max was glad she wasn't the only one finding this conversation embarrassing. By now Fang was looking at the floor, his olive skin hiding the slight blush trying to cover his cheeks. Max wasn't so lucky, in that her pale skin gave away the bright red streak across her nose. Eventually she cleared her throat, holding out her hand to him when he looked up.

"You could…keep me warm," she offered nervously, feeling the blush spread across her nose again when he took her hand and stood up. She became acutely aware of how much taller he was than her at that moment, when she was forced to look upwards to meet his gaze. "But just keep me warm, nothing else. Ok?"

He smirked and kissed her hand. "I'd love to."

oOoOo

If anything, Fang was a man of his word. Despite every hormone pumping around his body his hands never left her waist and soon they were both asleep in Max's bed, covers up to their chins, his chest pressed to her back. At first Max had found sleeping in such close proximity to someone a little odd, being able to hear their breathing and the weight of an arm over her waist almost stifling.

Slowly, she got used to it. And within the hour she was asleep.

She found it highly amusing that her alarm didn't disturb Fang in the slightest the next morning. He was obviously not used to being woken up by a beeping device. She reached over and switched it off. It was 7am, meaning she'd have to leave for the shops in an hour.

Fang had promised to stay home and watch the kids for the morning. As she peeled his arm from her waist and wriggled soundlessly from the sheets, something she had gotten used to when Angel shared her bed, she wondered how they would cope without him next week. She'd have to take all the kids shopping with her.

Just the thought of it made her shudder.

Padding down the stairs in her pyjamas, Max rescued Fang's clothes from the drier and took them back up to her room, folding them neatly on her pillow. He hadn't moved an inch, his arm laying where she had left it minutes ago, and she couldn't help perching on the edge of the bed and wiping a few stray strands of hair away from his face.

Like her own, he had dark circles blemishing the skin around his eyes. She was pretty sure she could guess what was interrupting his sleep back at his house. The scar on his face was a constant reminder to her of the life he had at home and, though she hadn't seen any new cuts or bruises, she doubted his Step Father had spontaneously become a saint.

He hadn't actually told her, but she'd bet her life that's where the scar came from.

Max smiled at his sleeping form and stroked the back of his head, savouring the look of serenity on his face. He'd done exactly as he promised and just kept her warm the whole night, wrapping his legs under hers and his arm around her waist, making her feel safe and secure. As she got up to dress she wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight, when he had gone back home.

There were a couple of errands she needed to run before going into town, mainly general tidying and a stock check, so she decided to wake him up ten minutes before she left. He looked like he needed the sleep, and he wasn't likely to be getting it back at home.

oOoOo

Fang didn't want to go home that evening. Even though it was just his mum there now, by the time school finished on Monday, Mike would be back, and their strained life would resume as if no holiday from the asshole had ever happened.

He wanted to whisk his Mother away to a safehouse and hide her there. They could hash out an existence together without him if his Mother got another job. As he trudged home in the cold late Sunday night he wondered if Max would consider letting them hide in her house, but then shook the thought away as he approached their driveway.

That would put her family in danger, and that he couldn't do.

It was about halfway up the drive that Fang stopped dead, and his heart rate started to rise. Every nerve ending in his body was begging him to turn around and sprint back to Max's, to do anything but approach the front door, do anything but return home, but in his heart he knew he had to, for his Mum's sake.

Mike's car was in the drive. They had come home early.

oOoOo

Easing the door open, Fang was met with the familiar raised voice of Mike as he shouted down his wife coming from the kitchen. As far as he could tell he hadn't struck her yet, since her voice was still clear and calm, even if she was speaking a little quietly. Against her soft voice Mike's loud barking was a huge contrast, talking so loudly Fang could pick out every word as he stepped into the hallway.

"I told you he wasn't to fucking go anywhere!" He hollered as Fang slipped his shoes off, placing them next to the door in the shoe rack. He took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen, not leaving his tiptoes, to peek through the gap in the door. "You were to both stay here until I got back! Is that so fucking hard to understand?"

Though he couldn't see Mike from this angle, Nancy was in clear view, her back to the kitchen door as she washed dishes in silence. She always tried to find something to do to distract herself when an argument started, and a pile of dirty dishes was very alluring to her even when she wasn't under stress.

When five seconds elapsed without an answer, Mike's anger grew. "Answer me, you cunt." He growled. "I told you he would visit that whore. That's where he went, wasn't it?" The woman continued to scrub the dishes in silence, viciously attacking something that had dried onto the edge of the plate. From off to the side he heard Mike let out a single, loud, snort, but it wasn't in laughter.

"I don't believe this," he muttered, before raising his voice. "You _want _him to go visit the girl? Do you want to be a grandmother already? Do you want that little shit to make the same fucking mistakes as his parents? Or is it that you're tired of your older child and want a new chilld to fuss over?" He stepped into view as he said that, his voice harsher and grittier than usual.

Nancy's arms froze in the water, either from shock or fear, as he forcefully grabbed her around the waist and pressed his mouth to her ear. "If you want a little bastard to love," he growled so loudly Fang could hear from the door, "I can give you one." His Mother began to shiver as his hand crept from her waist and down her thigh, a single tear escaping from her eye. "All you had to do was ask…"

As his hand trailed its way towards her trouser button, Fang'd had enough.

Bracing his hands on either side of the hallway, Fang lifted his good leg and kicked the kitchen door in with all his might. It flew open and slammed against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster before recoiling a little.

The noise did exactly when he wanted it to do. Mike recoiled from his Mother, who jumped out of her skin when the door hit the wall. Fang returned his leg to the floor and set his shoulders back defiantly.

"Get the fuck off my Mum."

Suddenly Nancy was forgotten as he strode from the sink towards his Step-Son, and she took full advantage of the situation by slipping out of the side door and into the back living room, so quietly Fang barely noticed her leave.

While Mike drew closer, it dawned upon Fang that he had failed to effectively think this whole operation through. His ultimate goal, rescue his Mother, had been a big success for the time being, but now he was faced with a very angry, heavily built Step-Father and no option but to face the man dead on.

He could run, but Fang didn't fancy himself a pussy.

A wide hand clamped itself onto the skinny boy's shoulder and Fang found himself hauled into the kitchen and thrown towards the counters at the far end. He regained his balance a few feet from hitting one square in the stomach, and span to face his assailant, who seemed to be going purple around the gills.

"How _DARE YOU_," his Step Father yelled as he approached the lad, who backed into the counters behind him. The counters encompassed two thirds of the kitchen area, cutting it off from the dining area of the same room. Now he was backed in between them there was no immediate escape routes, and the knowledge of this sent a pang of concern through Fang's heart.

The concern quickly turned into fear when Mike picked up the nearest weapon – a knife.

Last time it had just been dinner cutlery, but this time it was a butcher's knife, made to cut flesh from bone. Fang backed up as far as he could go then hung into the counter for a little support, afraid his legs would keel over if he didn't.

_I should have fucking run_, the thought as he surveyed his options, trying to keep an eye on Mike as he approached. He was already within swinging distance and escape routes were eluding Fang's fear-clouded mind. Before he could even consider any a burly hand closed around his throat and lifted him from the ground, slamming the boy's body against the fridge.

Mike held the knife barely a millimetre from Fang's face, staring into the boy's eyes, content to see fear shrouding them as he stared back in horror. "Next time you're told to stay in the house, you'll fucking stay there." He seethed, spit flying from his teeth and onto Fang's cheek as he pressed the knife into the lad's chin.

Trying in vain to pull Mike's hand from his neck, Fang refocused his energy keeping his body from shuddering as the cool blade pressed into his flesh. He tilted his head up as high as he could to keep away from the blade, but Mike just pushed it deeper into his chin. A slight prick of pain told him the knife had pierced his skin, and his Step Father's eyes gleamed at the blood on the blade as Fang squirmed to get free.

Not breaking the lad's eye contact, he slowly withdrew the knife from his chin, a sadistic smile on his face as he brought the blade edge to the front of the boy's trousers. "Next time you see that bitch," he whispered so softly, the words barely registered in Fang's brain after all the shouting. Especially now there was a knife pressed between his thighs. "I'll cut your balls off."

With that, Mike retracted the knife and finally dropped the teen to the floor, who gagged for breath against the cold fridge. Calmly his Step Dad slipped the knife, with blood still on the tip, into the knife rack and straightened his dishevelled shirt, his back to Fang as he pulled himself to his feet, his legs wobbly from adrenaline.

Without even looking back at him, Mike strode towards the kitchen door and surveyed the damage to the wall. It was superficial and easily repaired with a little plaster. With a shrug of indifference and a mental note to make Nick repair it himself, he pulled the door wide open, leaving the handle in the dent as he moved to leave.

"If you _touch_ my Mother tonight," Fang stated from the other side of the kitchen. "I'll fuck you up."

A cold smirk spread itself across Mike's lips, and he turned to face his now eldest child, amusement playing in his eyes. Across the room, still encased by the kitchen counters, Fang's face had knotted into something close to hatred. He no longer supported himself on the countertops and his hands were empty by his sides, his mouth taunt and his breathing harsh.

Mike stepped back into the room. "What're you gunna do about it, you little shit?" He challenged the boy, cockiness showing in his stride. He kept his eyes on the teen the whole time as he casually put his hands in his pockets and swaggered back across the room. "I'll fuck my wife whenever I want to. It's my _right_. And no scrawny little bastard is going to tell me otherwise."

He got to within a few inches of Fang, his extra inch in height barely affecting the lad's eye-line as they tried to stare each other down. He let a cocky smirk turn up the corners of his mouth when Fang's body stiffened in what he assumed was fear, and he bend very slightly to be exactly at the youngster's eye-level.

"Now," he whispered every so softly. "Say that again. To my face."

Without a second's pause he punched the man in the gut, the force of which caused Mike to bend over in sudden pain. He used the opportunity to try and land a punch to the guy's face, but Mike was much more accustomed to fights than the lads Max had fought from school, and he recovered much faster. He blocked and knocked Fang's punch way off mark, causing him to stumble, before aiming a punch right into Fang's falling body.

The teen's stomach absorbed the hit, and pain shot through Fang's abdomen before he hit the ground, smacking his head on the countertop on the way down. He landed in a heap on the tiles, sprawled haphazardly at Mike's feet. Now he was down, Fang was demoted to a punching bag. Mike rained him with punched working out his frustrations on the boy's body, battering almost every part of the lad as he lay helpless, semiconscious on the kitchen tiles.

The ordeal lasted just minutes, but to Fang it felt like a lifetime. He barely noticed when the pummelling stopped because he was already in so much pain, but when he peeled his eyes open he found he was alone in the kitchen.

Mike had turned the light out and left him there for the night.

As he struggled to pull himself up the stairs Nick could hear his Step Dad's raised voice coming from their room, but couldn't make out any of the words. He limped to his room and opened the door as quietly as possible, closing it just as gently to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.

Pulling off his clothes was a nightmare. Every muscle and bone ached and complained as he tried to change into his pyjamas. In the end he only got his shirt off before giving up altogether, removing his belt and resigning himself to sleeping in his clothes. The words were clearer through his wall, his parent's room right next to his, and his Step Dad's demands leaked through the thin plaster with disturbing clarity as Fang used his last ounce of strength to pull the covers up to his neck.

A few minutes later and his Mother's muffled cry sounded through the wall as Mike pushed her into the pillows, taking what he wanted from his wife, whether she consented to it or not. Laying an arm across his eyes Fang tried to remove himself from the cesspit that had become his everyday life. He imagined himself back at the Martinez household, playing scrabble and Texas Hold 'em with the kids, making them dinner from whatever he could find and walking them to school with Max every day.

His mother's whimpers continued to seep through the wall for an hour, punctuated by the occasional cry and the grunting of her so-called Husband as he defiled her. No matter how hard he tried Fang couldn't distance himself from reality and was forced to listen to the whole ordeal. When Mike was finished with her he simply rolled off and went to sleep, leaving her to cry quietly to herself for many hours into the morning.

Fang didn't sleep a wink that night. He wasn't sure he ever would again.


	51. The Last Straw

**Oh, look at that. Another update.**

**I hav work tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after the day after. And on Saturday I'm out all day, so chances of an update are slim to none I'm afraid. Unless I get hit by the inspiration bunny at work. Which is unlikely, since he's as rare as Buddha. So, here is another reasonably long update to tide you over until I get my mojo...free time...back.**

**Enjoy**

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**The Last Straw**

Back in the Martinez household, Max found it almost impossible to sleep. She spent the first few hours staring up at the ceiling with her hands resting on her stomach, the events of the last few days playing through her mind like a slideshow.

He had only been buried on Friday, and yet it seemed like her Dad had died so long ago, thanks to Fang being an incredible distraction. The kids seemed to have moved on without a hitch since the funeral, and their lives were set to return to normal this morning, with the kids returning to school for the last few days before the Christmas break.

So why couldn't she sleep?

She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, folding an arm next to her head. She didn't exactly feel uncomfortable without Fang pressed to her back, but she missed his warmth, as well as the fact that she knew where he was and that he was safe, than the boy himself.

He'd told her his Step-Father was due to return that afternoon. The slash on his face flashed into her mind, and she screwed her eyes against the image, willing it to leave. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall opposite her, unfocusing her eyes as her imagination threw up image after image of Fang, beaten and bleeding, at his Step father's feet.

With a sigh Max pulled herself upright and clicked the button on top of her clock, lighting up its face. It was only three in the morning, but she threw off the covers and slipped into her robe, the chill of the early morning nipping on her skin.

Max was sure there was some washing in the kitchen.

oOoOo

Unable to sleep for the whole night Fang was in the bathroom at five in the morning. He stood unmoving in the spray for at least ten minutes, letting the heat soak into his aching muscles as the shower beat down on his face. The last night had dragged horribly and he felt exhausted.

He could only imagine how his Mother felt.

After sobbing for hours Nancy got up and went downstairs. He never heard her come back upstairs and currently had no idea where she was. Yet still he could not bring himself to sleep and had finally given up just minutes before. Now he stood with his eyes closed as the water flowed down his face, letting the hot liquid turn his skin a slight shade of pink.

Finally, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands. The muscles in his arms burned with the effort, a reminder of his own ordeal last night. He was hoping the hot water would help diffuse the pain most of his body was exhibiting, but if anything the patter of the shower on his skin was making it worse.

He ran a hand through his hair, cringing as his fingers caught on a mass of hair and blood. The counter had done a number on his head, it seemed, and Fang cringed as he raised his hands to untangle the mess, turning to face it into the hot spray, helping to dissolve the dried, bloody mass.

Stepping out of the shower, Fang wiped the condensation from the mirror, studying his face in the steamy bathroom. Only two days ago he had marvelled at the lack of marks on his face. Now, his had a large, purple bruise on his left temple and a smaller, angry bruise just to the right of his nose. He silently thanked God that his nose hadn't been broken before tiling his head up, inspecting the incision under his chin, but it was negate-able, like a mozzie bite.

The purple bruises around his neck were much more conspicuous. He ran his fingers over the marks, the skin still sensitive to touch, and an involuntary shudder shook his frame at the memory of being held helplessly to the fridge.

How could he protect his Mother when he could barely protect himself?

Taking a step back, Fang studied the rest of his body in the mirror. There was a large bruise on his stomach where Mike had stomped on his gut, and a peppering of smaller, light purple bruises across his chest and arms. Most of the marks were on his back, from the kicking frenzy that followed Fang's attempt to knock his Step Father to the floor, all easily hidden by clothes.

Fang dried himself before pulling on a pair of black jeans and a grey shirt with white stripes. The collar was high compared to his other shirts, covering most of the bruising on his neck without problem. He studied his reflection in the mirror once more, just to make sure the bruising wasn't too obvious, before heading downstairs.

Rather than jumping down the stairs, Fang was forced to take the steps one at a time, his calf and thigh muscles complaining about the amount of movement he expected from them. Once at the bottom, he perched on the edge of the bottom step to pull on his shoes, his stomach turning too much to even consider food before he went out.

After tying his shoe laces, Fang paused and listened to the silence in the house, causing him to crease his brow. Normally, if his mother got up early, she was very much like Max. she never had idle hands, always preferring to be doing something than sitting about watching television.

Yet the kitchen was dead, the washing machine was still, and the dishes lay forgotten.

A glance about the hall revealed her coat was gone, no longer on its hook next to the door. All three pairs of her shoes were missing from the shoe rack beneath the hooks, as well, and the rucksack that usually sat next to the door was gone.

Getting to his feet, Fang limped into the living room. Her handbag wasn't in it's normal space, leant against her armchair, and her mobile and magazines were no longer on the table. The makeup bag she kept inside the coffee table was also missing, along with the spare house keys and her little sewing kit.

Either they had been robbed by a magazine reading, sewing-mad granny, or his Mother had finally done a runner.

Fang reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Flipping it open, one new message flashed up onto the screen, from his Mother just an hour ago. His heart was racing as he clicked **READ**, waiting for the message to load up.

_Get out_. It said, and Fang thought his heart stopped. _Stay at Maxs house until I call u_.

His heart kicked back into gear almost as quickly as it had stopped, and soon Fang was flying up the stairs as fast as he could, forgetting not to make a sound on the creaky floorboards. His Mother had finally gotten out. If Mike found she was gone while he was still in the house, he didn't want to know what his Step Dad would do in frustration.

Throwing as many shirts and pants as he could into his school bag, Fang squashed the contents right down to fit in underwear and socks, taking a full thirty seconds to carefully tuck his art book into the back of his bag, where it was less likely to get destroyed. As an afterthought, he grabbed the necklace he had bought Max, then sprinted back down the stairs.

Hopefully, Max would be awake by now.

oOoOo

She was just setting out the breakfast things when there was a knock on the door. Frowning, Max placed the last box of cereal on the table before straightening up and glancing out into the hall, but she couldn't see the front door from her angle. She shrugged and picked up her coffee, taking a sip, disregarding the knock as a paper boy.

There was another, louder knock on the glass, drawing her attention back to the door. With a sigh, Max placed her coffee on a coaster and slipped out into the hall, pulling her gown tightly around her as she opened the door.

She hadn't expected Fang to show up this early, but that wasn't what took her by surprise. She started at him with her mouth hanging slightly open while he blocked the doorway, his breath coming hard and ragged, as if he had sprinted from his house. His face had acquired two major bruises and he had a split lip.

Over his shoulder was a bag so full it looked like it would split.

When she finally regained her composure, she opened the door enough to allow him to slip inside "Jesus, Fang. What happened?" She asked as he limped into the hall, closing the door softly behind him. She wasted no time in slipping an arm under his and helping him into the living room, taking off his bag and easing him onto the sofa.

The teen let out a soft moan as he fell into the soft seat. "Take a fucking guess," he replies harshly, turning to lay his head on the armrest, gingerly laying his legs along the length of the sofa. Max knelt down beside him and placed a hand softly on his leg, watching his face as the boy screwed up his eyes in pain.

"I thought he wasn't due ba-" Max began, but Fang snorted, interrupting her. "The bastard came home early. Probably to make sure we were obeying his rules." He grunted, letting out a hiss of pain as he readjusted himself on the sofa. Max took her hand from his leg and gently stroked his cheek instead, careful to avoid the bruises. "Man was he pissed off."

Silently, Max catalogued the damage she could see. The most obvious bruises were on his face, but she was shocked when she noticed the hand marks around the skinny boy's neck. The bruises had gone an ugly purple colour against Fang's tanned skin, making it look as if his neck was going rotten. A few bruises flecked his forearms too, but nowhere near as bad as those.

Gently stroking his hair, Max looked back at his face, sickened by the bruises. "Was he drunk?" She asked softly, aware already Mike was prone to doing a lot of drinking. Fang took a deep breath and shook his head, resting an arm over his forehead, ignoring the pain from leaning on the bruise there.

"The drinking…pah." Fang almost laughed, lowering his arm back to his stomach, then flinching when he lent on the bruise there. "That was just an excuse. He's more violent when he hasn't been on the booze," he stated, resting his hand on his chest instead. He didn't fight Max off as she raised his shirt to inspect his stomach, and she blanched at the size of the bruise. "He's just more rational without it. Bruises heal father than a knife wound, after all."

Sadness filled Max's eyes as she looked back up at his face. He caught her gaze. While his face was stoic and calm, his eyes were creasing with pain whenever he moved. He may as well have been attacked with a meat tenderiser, if his muscles were that painful to use.

She wanted to ask him what had happened. How had he gone from recovered the night before to a puddle of tendons now, when only one night had passed? Surely he couldn't have done anything that bad in the last eight hours to warrant such a beating, even from his slap-happy step Father.

Her worried eyes projected the question, and Fang frowned. "He was home when I got there," he said softly, pulling Max's eyes back to his own. "Yelling at Mum for letting me come out. He threatened to rape her. I couldn't…I can't…" He tailed off, and his eyes began to fill with tears. Max began to cry silently as she ran a hand through his hair, waiting for him to continue as he blinked rapidly at the ceiling.

"I distracted him," the boy added, sniffing hard, blinking the tears away. "He threatened me with a knife. He was still going to…I didn't…I said I'd fuck him up if he touched her. When he didn't back off I hit him in the gut, but I wasn't strong enough."

He turned his head back to Max, now noticing she was crying for him. He raised a hand to her cheek, which she clasped in her free hand, never breaking his eye contact. "He raped her, Max." He whispered, so softly he could barely hear it himself. A single tear found its way down his cheek. "He raped her, and I let him."

Max sniffed hard. "Don't you dare say that," she said in a wavering voice. "Don't you fucking dare." She pulled up his shirt and pointed at the massive bruise, her other hand still grasping his. "Does this look like you sat there and let it happen? Do you get bruises from turning a fucking blind eye? I don't think so."

Pressing his hand to her face, more tears poured down her cheeks. Fang's gaze softened as she stroked the back of his hand, staring him in the eyes. "She knows you tried to protect her," Max added a little softer. "She knows you love her, and that's all that matters."

Fang raised his other arm, ignoring the pain in his biceps as he brushed a few strands of hair from her cheeks, sodden by tears. "Mum run," he said gently, watching Max's face twist into surprise. He let a slight smile crack onto his face, encouraging a nervous smirk from Max. "She ran early this morning. She's safe now."

Tears and laughter flowed from Max at the same time as she tried to stabilize her emotions. She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, a smile still spreading across her lips. "Thank _God_," she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. "You're not going back." She added defiantly, the old Max finally resurfacing. She picked up his bag and swung it over her shoulder, standing to take it to her room.

"You're staying here," she confirmed his unanswered question, all signs of tears gone. "Welcome to the family."


	52. It Begins

**You should all like, bow to me or something. I've been at work all morning, and I still find the time to write and update this fic before I have to return to work for some dull old meeting. I hope you appreciate this man. And you probably wont get an update tomorrow, since I'm out most of the day.**

**Enjoy. xx**

* * *

**It Begins**

Still stretched out on the sofa, Fang sipped the coffee Max had made him. She'd taken his bag upstairs, insisted on making him a drink and now was retrieving her mother's old makeup kit, to see if she had any concealer or foundation that matched his skin tone.

He planned to go into school today. If he arrived covered in bruises with marks around his neck, someone would panic and call the authorities, and this whole mess would blow out of control. If he let Max cover his bruises and blamed his older injury for his limp, there was a reasonably high change no one would ask awkward questions.

He needed to find Nudge, and make sure she was ok.

Granted, Mike had never laid a hand on his daughter before, but Fang was willing to bet his beaten family had never made a run for it before either. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if he truly believed Nudge was hiding something from his he might even…

Shaking his head, the teen tried to dispel images of Nudge laying beaten on the floor, her Father standing over her. As Max walked into the room he must have had concern plastered all over his face, because Max creased her brows as she knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

He turned to her and plastered on a fake smile. Though Max looked doubtful, she didn't ask questions, just perched herself on the edge of his chair and began to rummage through her Mother's vanity bag. Right at the bottom there was a tray of tester foundations, most of which her Mother had never touched, that she had gotten for Christmas one year.

Kids really had no idea what to get their Mum for Christmas.

Placing the bag of makeup on the floor, Max fished out a brush before flipping the tray open. Fang sipped his coffee as she swirled the brush on the very top of the foundation, covering it in a thin layer of powder. Once she was happy there was enough on the brush Max placed the makeup try on the coffee table, turning to face him.

She leant forwards and began to apply the powder to his temple. "Even I don't wear makeup to school," Max commented quietly, biting her lip as she tried to apply the powder evenly. His eyes closed against the powder, Fang smirked at her comment, daring a glance at her as she renewed the powder on her brush.

"You don't need it," he whispered, and Max paused briefly, the brush still on the foundation tablet. She let a slight smile grace her face as she continued to add powder to the brush, not meeting his eyes until she was happy with the amount of makeup on it.

Leaning forwards again, she motioned for Fang to close his eyes. He complied. "You're quite the charmer," she responded, and Fang's smirk grew wider as she applied the foundation to the bruise next to his nose. Once she was done she sat back and admired her handiwork. The bruises has miraculously disappeared from his face, leaving just smooth, tan skin in their place.

Fang opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to remove a few stray puffs of powder from his eyelashes. Content she had done a good job, Max closed the foundation sampler and pushed it back into the overstuffed makeup bag, pausing to dust the excess foundation off the brush before adding that too.

Zipping it back up, she stood and turned her back, taking the bag up to her room where it belonged. She hadn't opened that bag, or even looked at it, since her Mother had died. Finally using it since her death felt like a rite of passage.

"Max," her battered friend called as she reached the door, and she paused, looking back at Fang. He'd hauled himself into a semi-upright position since she stood, and it didn't look confortable. "I mean it." He added gently, pulling himself into a sitting position against the arm rest.

She offered him a half-smile, which he mirrored, and he was sure a slight blush crept across her nose before she left the room. He downed the last of his coffee and, with effort, placed the mug on the floor. If his muscles didn't chill out soon, he wouldn't be able to hide behind him limp excuse.

Just as Fang got comfortable again, his pocket began to vibrate. Hoping it was his Mother he pulled his phone out as quickly as he could, ignoring the pain that flowed through his system with the movements. When he looked at the screen, however, he was sadly disappointed.

A second's thought and accepted the call, pressing it to his ear. "Hey Nadia."

"Oh my GOD Nick thank god you answered your phone!" He pulled the receiver slightly away from his ear, cringing at his step-sister's pitch. "Dad is freaking out downstairs! He says your Mum is missing! He's so upset he's trashing the place. Do you have any idea where she is? He's called your Father's house and tried her mobile, but she's turned it off. You have to come home an-"

"I'm not coming home," he interrupted her rambling. He lifted his legs from the chair and paced them gingerly on the carpet, noticing slow movement hurt much more than doing anything swiftly. Forcing himself to stand, Fang supressed the urge to cringe as he stepped out into the hall. "He doesn't want me there, Nadia."

A gruff voice sounded, just out of hearing range, and Fang guessed it was her Father. "He says he wants you home, Nick." His step-sister pleaded over the phone. "He wants to know you're safe, and we need to find your Mum before sh-" Nadia cut off, before adding. "We just need to find her."

"Before she what?" Fang queried, limping into the hallway. Nadia was silent on the other end, waiting for her Father to come up with a response, but he seemed to be running dry on bullshit. "Ask him Nadia. Before she does _what_?"

There was scrabbling on the other end. He thought he heard Mike tell his daughter to go get ready for school as Fang leant against the stairs, already getting better at hiding his discomfort. _By the time school starts I'll be a pro at this_, he reassured himself as he waited, the phone pressed to his ear.

He didn't have to wait long.

Nadia's panicked breathing was replaced by a heavy anger. "Where the fuck is she?" He demanded, and Fang couldn't help the smirk that formed across his mouth. There was a hint of fear in the man's voice, and he hadn't tried to mask it. Their disappearance had rattled him.

"She didn't tell me," he stated calmly, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear Max walking around upstairs, presumably waking up the younger kids, getting them ready for school. "And I wouldn't tell you even if I _did_ know." He added for emphasis, the smirk slipping from his face to be replaced by anger. "You bastard."

Though he wasn't sure, it sounded like Mike growled down the phone. "I _will _find that cunt, and you." The man promised, his voice sending shivers down Fang's neck. Even over the phone this man was scary. "And you'll _both_ wish you'd never been fucking born!"

With that, Nadia's phone disconnected.

It took Fang a few seconds to click back to reality. When he did, he dropped the phone from his ear and pressed the device back into his pocket, taking in and releasing a heavy breath. He may have used her to try and find them, but for now Nadia seemed to be safe. How long that would last, the teen had no idea, but it was good to know.

Now he could focus on rescuing her too.

oOoOo

"Max," her friend Sam whispered in third period, leaning across her table. She looked up from her impossibly hard algebra question to meet the gothic boy's eyes. His concern was falsified by the massive grin on his face, convincing Max it was nothing serious. "I'm your friend, so I feel I need to tell you this, but I don't think Fang is straight."

She raised an eyebrow, and Sam pointed over to the boy. Glancing over, Max saw him picking a calculator from the box at the front of the class. Dressed in his stripy shirt and black pants, he seemed perfectly normal to her. She turned back to Sam. "And you think this because..?"

A smirk touched Sam's lips. "He's wearing war paint."

Not expecting anyone to notice, Max's mouth fell open a little. This appeared to be the reaction Sam was looking for, since he jumped back and clapped his hands gleefully, his smile widening with every clap. "Can I have him?" He asked, talking about Fang like the last puppy in the store. "He's so adorable. And that foundation really brings out his cheekbones. Mee-oow."

Max shook her head in disbelief. "Sam, he's not gay." The gothic boy in front of her stopped jumping in excitement. His bottom lip dropping into a pout, and his shoulders sagged. "He's just…you know, I don't care. Some men look good in makeup."

They both looked over at Fang at once, who had his head down as he made his way back to his desk, next to Max. Just in front of them he looked up and was met with Max's deep brown eyes and Sam's bright blue eyes staring at him. He looked from his girlfriend to her odd friend, then raised an eyebrow.

"What?" They both fell back laughing, leaving Fang to ponder what was funny. They never did tell him.


	53. Return to Normality

**Chapter 53**

Even though Nudge had told him they couldn't get through, Fang tried to call his Mother multiple times that first day at Max's house. By Wednesday he had given up trying and had settled into what could be considered a normal routine in the Martinez household, but his phone never left his side, always set as loud as it would go.

Where was she?

As he helped Max make dinner that night, his mind pondered this question. If she had gone to the police, something would have happened by now. If anything the coppers were quick with domestic violence cases and, the longer they left it open, the better his wounds and bruises would heal. This delay told him she probably hadn't gone to the police, or the hospital, which left Woman's Hostels or charities for the homeless.

He checked his phone again. No calls, no texts, no nothing. He slipped the device back in his pocket and slowly stirred the stew that bubbled away before him. As on edge as Fang was, Mike still had no idea where either he or his Mother were hiding. He could probably guess Fang was at Max's house, but he didn't know where she lived, so for now he was safe.

Thin arms found their way around his waist. Tilting his head, Fang smiled at Max as she held him tightly, resting her head between his shoulder-blades with a soft grin turning her lips. If anything good had come from the last few days, it was he had spent time with his girlfriend. Most of it was helping her care for her brood, but that didn't bother him at all.

He loved the kids, and they loved him. All was peaceful in the Martinez house.

Slipping onto her tip-toes, Max kissed the back of Fang's neck, savouring the warmth of his skin against her lips. "I'll go round the kids up," she said as she took her arms from his waist. He nodded once in acknowledgement, flashing a grin before he focused back on the stew simmering before him.

Since his return to the house, Fang had been designated Chef. Iggy had suggested that should be his 'rent' for staying in the house, and he seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. Despite still buying the same ingredients, they'd eaten something different every night he had been staying, and the kids loved the diversity in food.

They even wanted seconds, something they didn't normally ask for.

Having never been a domestic type, it didn't bother Max he could cook better than her. If anything it made her happy he had something to do in the house that he enjoyed, and it freed up more time for her to do other housework. She no longer had to wake up at the crack of dawn to complete all the chores, and the extra sleep was doing wonders for her.

Gasman and Iggy were in the living room. They had a monopoly board laid up, but were playing cards on the board rather than the actual game. Leaning around the door, Max smiled at them as they played an engrossing round of Go Fish, ending in Iggy's victory, as usual.

For a bind man, he was very good at that game.

She tapped the door twice, pulling both their attention to her. "Dinner in five," she stated, and the card game was immediately abandoned by an excited Gasman as he sprinted into the kitchen, keen to fawn over whatever masterpiece their new family member had whipped up tonight. Iggy followed a few moments later, flashing his sister a smile as he passed her.

She took the steps two at a time, the momentum from the large steps fuelling her jog across the landing to Angel's room. The door was ajar and she peaked through to check on her little sister, but what she saw made her stomach churn.

Little Angel was sat in the middle of her bed, surrounded by boxed presents that had all been sealed and labelled. In her lap lay a small wooden duck, crudely cut from a larger piece of wood, with holed drilled into the top to stick pencils in. The duck had been sanded so smoothly the wood looked manufactured, every edge soft and safe to handle.

Even before she walked in, Max could tell she was crying. An unused box lay open right next to her on her bed, and a label had been stuck to the lid in her large, childish print. Max quietly moved the box and sat in its place, gently rubbing her sister's back while the sobs slowly turned from bawling to gentle hiccups.

Angelica sniffed. "I made it at school months ago," she whispered, her voice still strained from crying. "I found a box and wrote the label before I remembered…"

"I still lay him a space at the table, for breakfast." Max confided in her sister, pulling the young girl's tear-stricken face to her own. She offered the girl a slight smile, and Angelica mirrored it, her tears already drying up. Max wrapped her arm around the little girl, taking a deep breath, willing her own tears to stay hidden.

The simple fact she wasn't the only one who forgot their Father was dead seemed to comfort the girl endlessly. She clung to her sister for a good thirty seconds before looking up into her wise eyes again, a gentle smile on her face. "What's Nick made for dinner?" Angelica asked, taking Max's hand, getting her to stand too. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

Beside her, Max laughed, but inside she was proud of her little fighter. Never down for long.

oOoOo

Although it was a school night, it was well after midnight when Max and Fang finally found their way to bed. They had been watching a movie which, with all the ad breaks included, had been much longer than they thought it would be. Once that was finished they found some old cartoons to watch, and it just escalated from there until Fang finally noticed the time.

It had rushed by so fast.

Now in their pyjamas and curled up in bed, silence filled the house. Fang lay on his back with one arm under his head, the other wrapped around Max's waist, her head resting on his bare chest. With the passing of the last few days they had become much more comfortable in each other's company, not that this was new territory for both of them.

Fang was just dozing off when she fidgeted against him. He opened one eye in the darkness, but could only just make out the darker spot on his chest that was the top of her head. She wrapped a leg over his and curled her hand against his stomach, seemingly ill at ease about something.

It was a few minutes later she raised her head, her dark blob turning slightly lighter as he was greeted with her face. "Can I ask you something?" She whispered, aware Iggy's bedroom was right next door. Fang shrugged in response, dropping his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders in one smooth movement, still looking down at her.

Slowly her facial features were coming back into focus, his eyes adjusting to the poor light, but he still couldn't make out her expression. Within a few seconds her head was back facing down again, and she ran a hand across his stomach.

"Was Brigid…the only one?" She asked tentatively, refusing to look back up at him as she danced her fingers across his stomach. He creased his brows slightly and began to slowly rub between her shoulders. "I mean, it's ok if she wasn't…just curious."

Fang held her a little tighter. "I had a girlfriend in 4th grade. Does that count?"

The teen turned her head towards him again. Before she even said anything, he was sure she'd be rolling her eyes or something. "I don't mean girlfriends, I mean girls you've…_you know_." She fidgeted uncomfortably and looked back down at his stomach, falling into silence once more.

He stroked the back of her head gently. "Girls I've had sex with?" He clarified, and Max nodded stiffly, curling her arm onto his chest as she shuffled closer to him. Fang let his fingers run through her soft hair, enjoying the feeling of the strands on his skin.

He took a deep breath. "Brigid was my first," he stated simply, drawing her eyes back up to his. By now his vision had adjusted as well as it ever would, allowing him to pick out her facial features in a general greyscale. Her emotions were still unreadable though. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And my last, to date."

Max pulled herself onto her elbows next to him, looking into his eyes. "Would you…again, even after the whole baby thing?" She pried. Despite the darkness she tried to keep her emotions off her face, but she could feel a blush creeping across her nose and spreading onto her cheeks. Beside her, Fang readjusted himself onto one elbow, raising his free hand to stroke her cheek.

"With the right girl," he said gently. "And the right precautions, yes."

Letting a smile grace her face, Max lay on her back, her head on a pillow. Fang didn't move as he studied her small frame, outlined in a fuzzy grey in the low light. She seemed to have a full dresser full of different coloured camisole and shorts patterns, this set were black with white trim, just as revealing as all the other ones she owned.

He shuffled a little closer. "What about you?" she asked quietly, and Max tilted her head to the side. He was sure he saw her eyebrows crease in the darkness. "Pretty girl like you must have had some suitors."

Max let out a puff of air, turning her head back to the ceiling. "I haven't had a boyfriend. Ever." She punctuated with a hand movement, almost hitting him in the nose. She didn't seem to notice however as she dropped it back to her stomach, not taking her eyes from the ceiling. "Didn't have the time or the patience before."

Fang raised an eyebrow. "So you've never done…anything?" He queried. That pulled Max's attention from the plaster work. She pulled herself a little more upright as he continued. "No…messing about, or anything?"

She balanced her weight on her elbows. "Messing about..?"

Now it was Fang's turn to be uncomfortable. He dropped his spare hand from her face and looked about the dark room for inspiration, but couldn't find any. "You know," he added lightly, pivoting his wrist in the air as if trying to think of something. "A little…petting, or exploring? Just to see what the other…_has._"

A flush of colour spread across Max's face, and it burned with embarrassment. She swallowed hard and looked away from him, self-conscious about her blushing even in the dim light. She pulled herself upright and hugged her legs to her chest, trying to dispel the urge to bury her face in her knees.

"I'd never even… I hadn't…I haven't, do." She stumbled over her own words, her focus on the wall ahead of them, her face still on fire. This was not a conversation she'd ever envisaged having with someone, at least not in the immediate future, and it was making her uncomfortable.

Beside her, Fang rolled onto his back, resting his hands on his stomach. When Max dared a sideways glance at him he was staring at the ceiling, drumming his hands against his belly. She took her hand s from around her knees and shuffled a little closer to him, pulling his gaze to her as she rested a hand on his thigh.

She offered him a nervous smile. "Maybe not _yet_, but…would you be my first?"

Even in the dim light she could see Fang smile. He took her in his arms and settled her back into his chest, one hand around her shoulders as he gently stroked the back of her head. "It would be my pleasure," he said gently, kissing the top of her head as she felt herself dozing off. "Whenever you're ready."


	54. Christmas is Coming

**Ok, so, I haven't updated this story in a while, and my others have had very sporadic updates. I'd like to say I had a legitimate reason for the delays, but other than University and Work draining all of my energy, and both taking up most of my free time, that is where my excuse both starts and finishes. I haven't been able to find the morale to write for a while and, when I did, it wasn't really ready to write something emotionally involved.**

**A lot of stuff has happened this year. Let's just leave it at that.**

**Anyway, here's a reasonable length update for you, and I'll be writing the next one later, most likely. I feel like writing for now, and this and the next chapter will get the ball rolling on the storyline. As you can probably guess, this arc is going to be coming to a conclusion very soon. This means I need to be writing very intense updates, and they may take a while to get going, depending on my frame of mind.**

**Thank you for all the reviews in my absence. It was one I read this morning that reminded me what was about to happen in the story, and thus continue with it while I'm on holidays. Reviews are always more likely to make me write updates.**

**And I won't be abandoning this story. Ever.**

**Enjoy.**

**xx**

* * *

**Chapter 54**

By Friday morning, Fang could feel his nerves fraying. His mother still hadn't been in touch, and he hadn't heard another peep from Nudge for four days. That was incredibly unusual for when you lived in the same house as her, but when you were hiding from her Father…that could be normal, for all Fang knew.

Pulling on his favourite shirt, plain black with a swirl of white writing just to the right of his chest, he tried to keep the thoughts from his mind. He'd tried to phone Nadia just yesterday evening, but he was passed straight to answerphone without even a ring. Her phone had been turned off, and that concerned him too.

He hadn't seen her at school, and Nudge _never_ had her phone off.

He straightened his collar and studied himself in Max's mirror. She had already pasted some foundation on him this morning, but under the makeup the bruises and marks were beginning to fade. The one on his temple had turned a sickly green colour, while the one next to his nose was almost gone, fading to a light pink.

All the marks on his back would take longer to fade, but they were easily covered, so it didn't bother him. He could finally walk without a limp again, and his muscles had all but calmed down since Monday. A few actions were still painful, but the basic ones such as walking were no longer an issue.

The bruises on his neck were the worst. They were still an angry purple colour, though they had faded slightly, and required a lot of foundation to cover. Thankfully, most people didn't casually stare at your neck, so it wasn't too obvious.

Running his fingers through his hair, Fang decided he really did need to get it cut. The fringe that was supposed to sweep across his eye was beginning to tickle his nose, and it was getting too tangled for his hands to manage. He'd have to start actually brushing his hair soon, at this rate. Not something he ever planned to do.

Making a mental note to book an appointment, he jogged downstairs.

In the hall, the kids were gathering their things together, pulling on coats and gloves. Another snowstorm had been forecast for that afternoon and, on the last day of school before the holidays, every child under the age of 15 was hoping for a white Christmas.

Though all the adults were hoping for one too, to keep odd relatives away.

As he pulled on his shoes and began to tie the laces, Fang marvelled at how quickly this routine had become normal for him. He'd get up at seven and make breakfast for seven thirty, leaving Max in bed until the food was ready. Then he'd go change while Max organised the kids into School Mode and they would head out.

Had he really embraced the routine, or was his mind scratching for any kind of normality after the last few months of his life? He stood and grabbed his bag, smiling absently as Max herded the kids out of the door, Iggy first. At this stage it didn't matter, he realised, when Max glanced up and replicated his smile.

This was…almost perfect.

oOoOo

The snowstorm had been weaker than forecast, but a small dusting of white had settled on the pavements, giving the town a crisp, clean finish in keeping with the season. True to tradition, all the schools kicked out early for the last day of term, and kids piled out of every school gate in excitement to their waiting parents or carers.

After all, Christmas was just five sleeps away.

Once they had all settled back into the house, coats and hats packed away in closets and slushy shoes drying on the hall mat, Max set about her chores while Fang started getting together the ingredients for dinner. Pulling a large packet of mince from the fridge to make chilli, Fang glanced over to the doorway just in time to see Max walk past with a ball of clothes in her arms, destined for the washing machine.

With an extra hand to help about the house, Max no longer had a need to rise so early in the morning, and just a few days of extra sleep had done wonders for the bags under her eyes. Years of stress and strain seemed to have lifted from her features and she looked noticeably younger and rejuvenated; her eyes were bright and intelligent, no longer clouded by sleep deprivation.

It was at this moment there was a bang on the door, and Fang tilted his head towards the sound. As far as he was aware, they weren't expecting anyone to come over for the holidays. To be honest, he wasn't even sure Max had any other family to come around, since she hadn't invited any to her father's funeral.

When Max didn't go back past the kitchen to open the door, he set the ingredients down on the counter and headed out into the hall instead. Turning the corner he noticed Angel on her tip-toes turning the door knob. He held back just slightly and let her open the door, still on the chain, to see who was outside, and he recognised her instantly.

A bright white, fluffy hood encircled Nadia's face, her mocha nose turning slightly pink in the cold as she spoke softly to the child through the narrow gap. From this distance she didn't seem to have been harmed, and there appeared to be no one with her, but her face looked lined with worry, as if she'd swapped with Max just a few days ago.

Angel closed the door and began to take the chain off. It was at this point he stepped forwards and caught her hand on the door. She glanced up at him with slight confusion in her eyes, and he nodded towards the kitchen, his face as blank as he could keep it.

"Why don't you go help Max?" He suggested gently, letting go of her hand. "Tell her I'll be back soon."

The girl let the confusion slip from her face, and a smile set her lips as she nodded. She turned on her heel and skipped down the corridor, blonde curls bobbing around her shoulders as she went. She paused to take a single glance back at the newest addition to her family, her smile replaced with a hardness uncommon in one so young. Fang was sure he saw a deeper understanding of the situation than he'd given the girl credit for written in her features as she disappeared around the corner.

Swiftly, he turned to the coatrack and grabbed his coat. Shrugging it on his shoulders, he checked he had a set off keys in his pocket before pulling taking the chain from the door. The wind outside had been picking up all afternoon and wasted no time in blowing the door open once it was released. Nadia lunged to catch it, assuming Angel would not be able to prevent it from slamming into the wall beyond, but stopped short when she noticed her brother's frame in the doorway.

He caught the door deftly, the force not throwing him off balance as he kept his eyes directly on his step sister. She seemed slightly surprised, at first, that he had been there. But quickly the surprise melted from her face and was replaced with a gentle smile.

"I knew you'd be here," she said softly, the smile still on her lips. "I've been so worried. You and your Mum vanishing at the same time, I thought you didn't want to live with us anymore. We searched all over town, and all the hotels, and Dad's been so sca-"

Fang closed his eyes and looked away, holding up a palm to silence her. He hadn't expected it to stop her so abruptly, and looking back he noticed she'd also taken an unconscious step backwards, off the step and back onto the path. Making use of this new space, he dropped his hand back to his side and stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he glanced over at his step sister. The smile had fallen from her face, and she seemed concerned about something, but kept her lips pressed tightly together as she studied his blank features. They remained standing in the cold on Max's doorstep for a few minutes, just staring at each other, Nudge unable to read anything from her step brother and Fang getting all the information he needed from her unnerved face.

Finally, he nodded towards the park. "Let's take a walk."


	55. Reviving Memories

**So, like, it's almost Christmas, as I'm sure you're aware. I hope you have wonderful Christmases with whatever family you have around and stuff, ad that you get to enjoy the day and have it off. Since tomorrow is Christmas Eve I will be out most of the day around a relative's house, and as such will not have much time to write/ whatever here.**

**So I guess your Christmas present is a second update today. How about that then?**

**Merry Christmas.**

**xx**

* * *

**Chapter 55**

The wind continually tried to rip Nudge's hood from her head as they walked against it to the park, boots crunching on the thin layer of snow beneath their feet. Snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky once more, and a fresh dusting of white now covered the ice and slush remaining from the last snowstorm, reminding anyone who cared to look outside that Christmas was so close now, the children could taste it.

They walked in silence, Fang with his head down and hands deep within his pockets, Nudge's hands holding her hood upright as she watched the snow flicker about them and get stuck in the fur of her coat. Despite deciding they needed to talk, Fang had no idea how to describe all the things he felt he needed to clarify with his step sister. As their destination crept ever-closer, words jumbled themselves and bounced about his head, barely making any sense as he ran them through his mind over and over.

What should he say to her?

Reaching the park, he still had no idea what he was going to say. He held the gate open for her, his hands freezing in the wintery onslaught of the wind as she slipped through the gap. She headed straight for the swings he and Max had spent so long on in the past, and Fang could do nothing but follow, taking his place on the swing next to her and staring out into the white-dusted expanse of trees and grass.

Sitting in silence, neither person moved for a good five minutes, lost in their own thoughts and trying to arrange their words within their own minds before they tumbled into the real world. While Nudge's face was plastered with concern and confusion, Fang's remained straight and blank as he got lost in his own mind, mulling over the words and events he needed to voice to his step sister.

Finally, he sighed, pulling Nadia's attention to the side of his face. He planted his feet on the floor and began to rock himself gently in the cold air, feeling his nose turning red with every passing second. The snow was beginning to come down harder and, when he finally turned to look at her, Nadia's fluffy white coat had a thin coating of snow stuck in the fur.

"How much do you remember?" He asked her in a gentle, level voice. Her features creased a little as she tried to determine what he was asking about, as well as the familiarity of the question. Every session she had with her psychiatrist seemed to start with that question, and she wasn't sure why. When the confusion failed to lift from her face, he rephrased: "How much do you remember about living with my Mum and I?"

She blinked, snow in her eyelashes being dislodged and being blown sharply away in the wind. "Still don't remember anything past the wedding," she responded, the confusion slipping from her features as she cast her mind back. "I remember being a bridesmaid, and meeting your Mum for the first time and thinking she was wonderful. She told me all about you afterwards, when we had dinner together, and that you'd be coming to live with us too."

Pausing, Nadia's face creased as she tried to remember any more information, and Fang could see the strain on both her face and her mind written in the creases by her mouth. She felt horrible forgetting, he knew, and that she couldn't help it. But the more she remembered by herself, the less of a shock the rest of his information would be.

"I have brief memories of you," she finally said, her eyes still closed and her face lined with concentration. "The day you moved in, when you played cards with me for a few hours, and taught me how to play new games." She opened her eyes, sadness playing at their corners, and her voice came soft and strained. "I don't remember what games they were, though."

He shifted on the swing, throwing a leg over and leaning against the chain behind him. "Anything else?" He prompted, hoping she'd at least remember something about her Father's treatment of either him or his mother, but a few minutes of trying to remember later and Nudge could do nothing but shake her head.

Closing his eyes and drooping his head, he thought for a second. He was no psychologist and had no idea how one was supposed to help bring back memories. The doctor had said she may never remember, the events lost to the damage sustained in the accident, but he had one plan, and it had to be worth a try.

He looked back up at Nudge and caught her eyes. "I'm going to try something, ok?" He asked, and a few second's mental debate got him a slightly cautious nod. He pulled himself into a more upright position, holding onto the base of the swing for balance. "Close your eyes and try to relax." He instructed, and his step sister obliged, taking up the same stance as him to allow herself to rest against the swing chain.

"Try not to think too much," he added when he saw her slump against the swing chain. He needed as much as her mental attention on him as possible when he started. "I'm going to relive a memory aloud, and I want you to try and visualise it as I go," he explained, noticing Nadia nod very slightly at this. "Maybe something will come back to you."

He took a deep, calming breath before closing his own eyes. "Imagine yourself in your room, relaxing, doing whatever you normally do when you're having some down time." He began, imagining himself in his own room while he'd had a mangled leg, confined to his bed. He let her visualise the scene before continuing: "You hear the front door slam. Your Father is home from the pub, after an evening of betting and drinking. He's lost money on the horses, and he' angry."

Nadia flinched at the thought, and imagined herself looking up from her book at the slam of the door. Even before Fang began to describe it, she imagined his heavy steps into the kitchen, where Nadia was cleaning up after dinner. "You can hear muffled voices from the kitchen," Fang confirmed her own imagination, and she was surprised that was what she had imagined anyway. "The voices slowly begin to raise in volume…you can hear accusations…"

Without meaning to, Fang trailed off as he remembered his mother pleading her husband to have some restraint. His visit from Max had come out in the conversation, and Mike had started flipping out. Her voice had been so high, so frightened, his memory was almost trying to stop him remembering what came next, even if he knew what it was.

Nadia took a shaky breath. "The door," she said gently, and Fang opened his eyes to see tears tricking down her cheeks, the wind whisking them from her face before they reached her chin. "He hit her…with the door…I can hear her crying…" She opened her own eyes and caught his, shock and confusion echoing in them as she studied his stoic features.

"He…he hurt you." She said in a whisper, her words almost lost to the wind. Across from her, Fang nodded slowly, his speckled with snow, his hair almost white from the growing blizzard. Silence encased the pair as they stared at each other. The wind blew Nudge's hood from her hair but she didn't notice, her gaze lost in Fang's own inexpressive gaze.

"Why…why would you make me remember that." She stated, not a question but trying to organise her thoughts within her own head. Fang didn't have to reply, it was obvious from her expression she now understood why they had to run away from that house. The cold wind only accentuated the frozen hatred for her father now seeping into her veins.

Every thought and emotion she experienced was echoed in her face, and Fang wish he knew what to say to help her come to terms with the situation, but no words came to mind. The girl was discovering her father, the one and only person she recognised when she awoke in the hospital, was actually a monster in human clothing. All he could do was wait for her to come to terms with the information.

Eventually, she did glance back up at him. Her dark hair was now covered in white speckles, bringing out the darker tones of her skin as the sun began to set behind the trees. Despite the effect, she seemed paler than usual now, her eyes wide with both shock and understanding as she held Fang's own eyes hostage.

She sniffed hard, and more tears flowed down her face. "At the hospital, when I woke up…you had a fresh black eye…that was my fault."

Without any thought he shook his head. "You can't blame yourself for what Mike does." He said gently, loud enough to be heard over the rising wind. She was remembering more and more, it seemed, or at least adding two and two together between her actions and following consequences. "I was bedridden, and why wouldn't you walk to your friend's house on your own?" He rationalised when she shook her head. "Though I don't know why you stepped out in front of a car."

A sudden shock of realisation went through Nudge, and it was so obvious Fang moved forwards, scared the sudden seizure of movement that took over her small frame was going to send her toppling to the frozen ground. She caught herself by grabbing the swing's chain ahead of her, but she was breathing heavily, her frame heaving and her eyes wild at what Fang thought was shock from almost falling.

"Oh God," she stammered out, her breathing getting more uneven, her gloved hand wrapped tightly around the swing chain before her. Her gaze had been averted by the fall, but now her eyes met Fang's again, and the gravity of the emotions in her eyes surprised even him. "I…I remember everything."

He learnt forwards to comfort her. "It's not that bad," he began, but she began to shake her head dramatically, a fear rising in her eyes alongside the other emotions. "You don't understand," she interrupted his comforts, and he was taken aback for a second. "I remember _everything_, Nick. Not just what he did since the wedding, but what he did _before_."

She swallowed hard, her hand shaking on the chain. "I think he murdered my Mother."


	56. What Nadia Forgot

**So I got the time to write this morning. **

**I'm cutting it fine, since my Mother wishes to ice cakes me made yesterday, and I have gingerbread to also add a little sparkle to and something else that my Dad wants to bake to finish before we can go over to my Nan's for the evening, but here you go. **

**It's Nudge's turn to be under the background limelight.**

**Enjoy.**

**xx**

* * *

**Chapter 56**

She had been so young at the time of her Mother's suicide, so young in fact that most Doctors agreed she would never be able to remember anything of that afternoon. This left Nadia with no memories of her Mother and, while Mike seemed to be appeased by the words of the quacks, Nadia had kept searching for second and third opinions, desperate to have a memory of the woman she'd never met.

Then she found Doctor Mareo.

He was recommended to her Father by her Primary school, after they learned she had a traumatic past. The school counsellor convinced Mike that, even if she did not remember the event in question, it could leave unconscious scars in her mind that could hinder both mental and social development in the years to come.

With this advice in mind, and the acceptance of his daughter, he enrolled her in a course of therapy, supposed to last six months. The course was to uncover and deal with any feelings and psychological imbalances created by the events of her past and help her deal with them, eliminating them and enabling her to develop as a normal child should.

Once in his room, however, Nadia had different ideas. Doctor Mareo was taken aback at how detailed and determined the young child that sat in his chair was as she described her past and her thoughts and feelings on the occurrence, her sadness at being unable to remember her Mother's face clearly from memories alone, and her wish to try and unlock some early recollections from her younger self.

Although Mareo shared the opinions of most of the doctors she had already approached, he could not stop himself offering aid to the girl that sat before him. Her large brown eyes flooded with excitement when he agreed to help her in her endeavours, and she launched herself from the sofa opposite him to embrace him, nearly taking his full coffee cup with her in her travels.

However, trying to unlock memories of someone you couldn't actually remember was a very tricky business, and it took many years for the pair to reach their first breakthrough. Believing his daughter was just having a hard time working through her emotions, Mike had begrudgingly continued to pay the monthly bill for a very extended period of time, and it was only two years before his remarriage that some memories finally came to light.

It wasn't what either of them was expecting.

The images that came to her were shot lived and jumbled, the series of events making very little sense to her. First she was with her Father in the kitchen, crying her eyes out into his shirt as heavy footed men ran upstairs, shouting to one another, but their words were lost on her ears.

Next, she saw herself in the doorway of their bathroom, her mouth open in shock at a sight that currently eluded her memory. Beyond the door remained hazy and forgotten, a slight pink mist clouding her view and preventing her from seeing inside. She heard the younger version of herself scream and dash down the hall, calling out for her Father in fear.

Then the images were gone, and Nudge was back in the psychiatrist's office, tears streaming down her cheeks and her breathing heavy. Once she had calmed back down, Mareo told her she had screamed for her Father and began crying just seconds before she came back to the room. Though he asked her what she saw, his patient remained silent for the rest of the session, and left without a word.

He was almost surprised when she came back for their next session, a little later in the week. When she sat down before him, he had barely pulled out his notebook before she began to tell him what she has seen the session before, as well as what she had not seen. Mareo noted down all the details calmly before placing his pen on the table and lacing his fingers together, leaning towards Nadia on his elbows.

"Tell me," he said softly, a tone always adopted by psychiatrists and doctors. "What do you think it means?"

Nadia found the question patronising and, as an honest child, wasted no time in telling the man so. She had been told her Mother committed suicide when she was younger, and was assuming this recollection had been her finding her Mother's…body, she explained to him as evenly as she could. She confided in him she wanted to remember something nice about her Mother, not her death, and asked if he could try to help her with that instead.

Over the following year, together with Doctor Mareo, she managed to unearth and decipher half a dozen memories of her Mother from her unconscious. It was very slow work, and only a couple of the memories were in a good enough state to remember voices and specific details. Many of them were mute or jumpy, a specific scene missing from the middle of the memory.

But it was something, and Nadia was happy.

It was about Christmas time that year that she confided in him she wished to remember her Mother's suicide. The short, disjointed scenes of her Mother's death would occasionally come to her in her sleep, and she had decided now was the time to come to terms with her the event in the only way she could think of.

Though the psychologist was obviously weary about this endeavour, he eventually agreed to help. It would certainly help her sleeping if she came to terms with her Mother's death, and it might even help them unlock more memories of her in their sessions to come.

Considering some of the scenes had already come to her subconscious, it didn't take much encouragement for more of the scenes to come to light, as with all her other memories. Unlocking the first part of the memory was always the hardest step. Once even just a second of information was available from a sequence, the rest flowed like thick honey, slowly and steadily into the mind.

At first, Nadia found the sequence of events she witnessed very traumatic, finding herself in tears after every attempt to expand on her current scene sequences. After almost six months of practice, however, she learned to separate herself from the young Nadia that barely understood what was happening before her eyes and became a bystander to the events that followed.

Everything suddenly came to her in a rush, some of it details she wished she hadn't seen. She saw herself wake from a nap and find her Mother's bracelet on the bed, slipping it on as she called out for her. When she received no response she slid off the bed and padded out into the hallway.

It was mid-afternoon, and the hallway was brightly lit in an orange hue, the white of the doors along the hall reflecting the light brightly, almost blindingly into little Nadia's eyes. She noticed the bathroom door was ajar and cautiously approached the doorway, older Nadia following behind to see what lay beyond the pink mist.

Seeing her Mother in the bath, surrounded by dark red water, should have upset her, older Nudge realised. But while young Nudge was shaking before her as she tried to understand what she was, older Nudge felt herself detach from the situation, and she saw things she'd have missed as a child.

Her Mother seemed to have cut her wrists open, but both wrists were cut forcefully and neatly, something older Nudge knew would be impossible to do yourself if one wrist were already ripped open. She also had to search for the razor before finding it on the opposite side of the bath, well out of her Mother's reach.

Within the water, her eyes were wide open in shock, her mouth set in an expression even older Nudge couldn't place; betrayal or misunderstanding, maybe. On the floor by the bath lay a small hand towel, a corner of its white fluff soaked in blood covered water.

It was then little Nudge had seen enough, and she threw herself down the hallway, screaming for her Father. Assuming she would lose the memory if she didn't follow, older Nudge launched herself after the child and instantly found herself in the kitchen, watching her younger self run down the stairs in panic.

Taking a beer from the fridge, Mike looked extremely calm when he turned to face young Nadia. He placed the beer on the counter and stooped to pick up the blubbering girl, raising her to his chest and holding her there as she sobbed. He then cracked open the beer with one hand and took a long glug from it, seemingly never taking his eyes from front door, which lay ajar.

It wasn't long before paramedics flew through the doorway and up the stairs, their feet pounding on the wood in their haste to reach their patient. The man highest up the hallway shouted for a stretcher, but quickly corrected his request to ask for a body bag, once he reached the bathroom.

The whole time, older Nudge studied her Father's features. He seemed unmoved by all the commotion upstairs, something his highly paid psychiatrist would later put down as being psychologically removed from the situation due to trauma.

All the time they were upstairs he calmly sipped his beer, eyes not on his traumatised daughter but the body bag as they dragged his wife downstairs. When approached by a paramedic his face seemed to contort into sorrow on demand, and he wrapped both his arms around his weeping child as the man explained she had bled out from her wounds. He asked if he wanted to accompany his wife to the morgue, which he declined due to needing to care for his daughter, and then the man was gone.

The door closed, Mike's face slipped back to impassive as he downed the last of his beer. Only then did he really pay attention to his daughter's plight and comfort her properly, turning on the spot to take her up to bed.

That was when older Nudge saw it: A spot of blood on the arm of his shirt.

At that realisation, she had been thrown abruptly from the memory and back into Mareo's room. He seemed excited that she had been within the memory so long and was pushing for new details about her experience, but without a word she got up and left his office, walking home half an hour early so she could think.

She skipped her next session, but over the following week Nadia spent a lot of time in the library, gathering news articles. It turned out that the Police had become involved in her Mother's death as a suspected murder, something her Father had never told her. Many news articles brought up evidence that could not be substantiated due to the speed with which the body was cremated and the extent to which the house was cleaned so soon after the death occurred.

Some of the details she had seen as well, such as the razor on the opposite side of the bath and the cleanness of the cuts described by the mortician, were brought into question and, while it all looked suspicious, nothing could be confirmed due to the cleaning and cremation.

Her Father had gotten away with murder.

The following week she approached her psychiatrist with all her newspaper clippings, pointing out the details she had seen herself as well as the other occurrences that would have stayed an investigation in the woman's death. Mareo looked over the papers and listened to her recollections, and agreed to try and build a case with her for her Father's prosecution.

"The problem being," he had said, "is you have to pretend nothing has happened between you two." Nadia had been confused by this statement until reality hit her full on with the psychiatrist's next words: "He killed your Mother. If he knew you remembered the events, would he hesitate to kill you too?"

Shortly after this, her Father remarried, and Nudge had to pretend to be a happy bridesmaid as she watched a woman sign her life away to the monster that pretended to be a Father and now a loving husband for the second time. When she spoke to her new step Mother and found she had a son, she could feel her insides chewing themselves apart at the possibility that he might have a personality clash with her Father.

If he wasn't a wimp, he was going to come under fire.

Between then and her accident, the weeks with Nick and Nancy living under their roof had frayed Nadia's nerves to their breaking point. Her step brother was constantly under the man's feet and, while she commended his perseverance in defending his Mother and his own honour, she worried for him constantly.

The night her Father had jammed a glass bottle into Nick's back, she thought he might have killed him. And seeing the lad actually lift glass to his wrist, even for a second, shot her back into horrible memories of her Mother's death, may it be suicide or otherwise. She felt it was her duty to remove the glass from his room and, luckily, she had been able to give him something to lift his mood at the same time, rescuing him from despair.

Then she'd had the accident, and all this information had been erased from her head. The doctors in the hospital had miscalculated how much of her memory had been wiped from her mind after the accident, as the damage had gone back years. It's possible her mind had used the trauma as an excuse to repress anything damaging and tried to erase all of this information from her mind while it had the chance, but Nick had just brought it all back to her.

Walking home in the snow, Nudge came to the conclusion she needed to get out of the house as soon as she could. She would tell her Father she was going to stay around Arianna's place for a few days before Christmas, then go to a friend she didn't usually stay with, like Madison. As long as she remembered to take her phone with her, he wouldn't have any phone numbers for the friends she would hop between and she could avoid him until school resumed in the New Year.

She just hoped it would be enough.


	57. Self Defence Training

**So, good news, I am still alive!**

**The last few months have been a bit dramatic, hectic and generally not conducive for writing, and as such I failed at it for a while. University decided to mound work onto use, some family issues came up and the dog died, all leading to a general breakdown of anything that wasn't necessary to keep my brain functioning.**

**So this update is a bit late...but it's long. Almost 3,000 words.**

**Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing _and_ fave-ing in my absence. Stuff like that always brings me back in the end, and the bunnies have to start running about again some time. I've basically planned the rest of the story in my head now, but it has at least another 20 chapters before this runs to an end, so no worries on that front.**

**Read, enjoy, review if you like. xx**

**Self Defence Training**

Just three sleeps remaining til Christmas, and the kids were bouncing off the walls in anticipation and eventually Max decided they would have to take a trip to the park to burn off their excess energy, or they wouldn't sleep a wink for the next few days.

With a few mutterings from Iggy about the cold and a fanfare finding Fang some appropriate clothes to borrow, everyone was bundled up warmly and ushered out of the house for an afternoon of frolicking in the snow. The most recent wave had only just stopped falling and a few inches of fresh white powder marked everything in sight.

It really did feel like Christmas.

There were a surprising number of children in the play area that afternoon. Gasman and Angel had no problem slipping in amongst their ranks and joining in the next round of Stuck, a game you pretended to be stuck in mud until someone rescued you and allowed you to continue to gallop around the grass, while Max and the elder kids settled onto a park bench and watched the kids play in the enclosed area.

"It's freezing," her younger brother complained for the fifth time, taking his gloved hands from his pockets to breathe what he hoped would be warmer air on them. Despite wearing three layers of jumpers under his coat he was shivering as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets again. "Why did we all have to come?"

Max, who had taken up a set on the table itself rather than an accompanying bench, swivelled to look at her blind brother, noting the shudders spreading across his entire body as he stared at her blindly. If he was pretending to be colder than he was just to go home, he was doing a very good job of it. "Move about a bit," she suggested, leaning back on her elbows. "That'll warm you up."

Having taken a seat on the bench between them, Fang glanced over his shoulder at the shivering blind boy, who rolled his sightless eyes in mock exasperation. "Do you suggest joining the nine year olds, or were you thinking of an outdoor aerobics class?"

Turning back to look at Max, he saw her hand flick out in a throwaway gesture, obviously forgetting it was wasted on her brother. "Why don't you give Fang a self-defence lesson?" She suggested, glancing down at the boy to see him raise an eyebrow. It lacked a lot of it's normal sarcasm as a shudder found its way through Fang's bones, and she couldn't help but smile. "It'll warm you both up."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for someone who can see to teach me?" Fang asked, his voice slightly muffled by the scarf wrapped about his mouth and nose. Apparently Max was the only one dressed appropriately for the weather in her old fluffy hooded coat, a baggy sweatshirt and about three undershirts.

She shook her head, causing the fur-lined hood to fall from her face as she did so. "Mine comes automatically, I don't really pay attention to what I'm doing." She said, pulling her hood back over her ears. "Igs has a hypersensitivity to what his body is doing at almost any time, if he feels like paying attention."

As Fang pushed himself up from the bench, Iggy snorted. "I don't really have a choice, it comes with being blind." His statement was almost lost on a gust of wind, and another shiver found its way down Fang's spine. Peculiarly, Iggy began peeling layers off and folding them on the table, not stopping until he was left with just two shirts on.

He made a motion in Fang's general direction. "I don't hear clothes coming off," he stated, the cold obviously showing in his outstretched limb. "You won't want to be wearing three layers of clothes when we really start moving."

Reluctantly, the boy peeled off the top two layers of his clothes, leaving just his old jacket and a shirt Max had found for him earlier as his protection against the elements. He had to try hard not to let his teeth chatter as he stepped towards the blind boy, flexing his fingers in a vain attempt to keep his hands warm. When he got to within three feet of him, Iggy held out a hand, and Fang instantly stopped in his tracks, unsure what else the signal should mean.

"First, we need to get your technique right. Or the rest of this is pointless." He returned his arm to his side and paced to Fang's left, who did not move other than to swivel his head to follow him. "I want you to punch forwards as if hitting someone your height in the face, and hold the pose, ok?"

At first, Fang nodded, then he remembered the need to give a verbal acknowledgement and added "Ok," as a second thought. He flexed his muscles, feeling a slight warmth through his body from just that action, before throwing himself into a punch intended for an invisible target.

He held it, unsure if Iggy had even noticed the movement, but soon the blind boy's hands were skimming over the muscles in his arms, tracing them with delicate, pale fingers, a look of concentration plastered on his face. "Your muscles are still tensed." He stated after a few seconds, leaving his hands on Fang's upper arm. "Keep the pose, but intentionally relax your arm."

This was a lot harder than it first appeared, Fang found, for every time he tried to relax his muscles his arm would droop. Eventually he got to it by allowing his arm to bend very slightly at the elbow and bow out a little from his shoulder, making the angle look something like that of a boomerang to his own eyes.

"Good," Iggy acknowledged him, taking his hands from the boy's arm and smiling at him. "If you keep your muscles tensed the whole time, it'll run down your reserves that much faster. Returning to that bend after contact is also good for the muscle, helps prevent damage."

He turned to glance at his sister, who had remained on the picnic table, an eye on the kids in the play area and another on their training session. Fang also turned his head to glance at her, noting her focus was entirely on the playground for now.

"How's his stance?" Iggy called out, and her eyes flicked to them instead. She seemed to concentrate quite hard on them and it was a moment before Fang recalled what she'd said earlier. If Iggy had been able to see, he would have corrected any mistakes straight away. As it stood, he was relying on Max to tell him how it was, and she had to think about it.

She sat up straight, her legs folded beneath her. "He has the wrong leg forward." She commented, finally seeming to feel the cold as she tensed up, tucking her hands in her lap. Fang looked down and noted he'd favoured his left leg to give his punch momentum, but had used his right hand to punch. "Not that general fighting leaves room for leg extensions anyway," the addition bought his eyes back up to her as he corrected his stance. "That's more of a show thing."

Beside him, Iggy shrugged. "I was always better at this stuff. You want him to learn real techniques, you're going to have to teach him." He picked up a layer from the bench and pulled it over his head with an almost unreal preciseness, adjusting the hem neatly before reaching for another. "So much for warming me up."

Having returned to a neutral stance, he watched as Iggy and Max changed places on the bench, the latter peeling off her two uppermost layers before striding over to him. She had three shirts of different length layered over one another; a green long sleeved shirt, a red shirt that cut off at her elbow and a tank top of black.

No wonder she'd stayed warm the longest.

Stopping beside Fang, she proceeded to stretch her arms above her head and bend to the side, waking her muscles up and sending a first, small wave of warmth through her system. Unsure what else to do, Fang ended up copying her as she progressed through a series of warm-up exercises to limber her muscles and warm her bones.

When finished, she strode out ahead of him and took up position a few feet away. "Obviously, you won't have time to do that in a real fight, but I'd rather minimalise my muscle damage in a practice." She clarified, shaking her arms out as a very last measure. He nodded once in acknowledgement and copied this action, already feeling much warmer from the brief exercise.

"Alright," she muttered, more to herself than her student, and fell into a pose that looked much more relaxed than Fang would choose if he were readying for a fight. "The trick is not to overstress your muscles too early. Most people tense up their body to try and throw the whole of their power into a first shot which, with most fights, is effective since basically everyone does it." She motioned to the pose Fang had adopted before her. "It's a reflexive response to danger we're going to have to condition out of you."

She closed the distance between them to adjust the way he was holding his body, forcing him to release the tension in his muscles and relax his stance. He found the position she placed him in to feel almost unnatural, most of his energy now not on the front as one would expect when preparing to fight and instead his focus kept on where his body lay about him.

Happy with her work, Max stepped back again. "That pose comes naturally to me." She stated, falling back into it in an instant. "Since I have little power behind my punches, I rely on agility increasing my chances of winning. Seems thugs at school don't even consider agility when they decide to beat someone up. It's a real advantage to have it down."

Fang nodded, but he could feel his muscles twitching from the odd angle she'd poised him at. They weren't used to holding his weight in such a way. Before he even voiced this, Max had told him to return to a neutral stance. "You have to practice that stance," she added as his muscles relaxed into their comfortable positions. "If you aren't used to it, it can get painful, but it's well worth it."

"Stop explaining and show him," Iggy's voice carried on the wind, though the boy's sightless eyes didn't leave the play area before him. "He'll see _why_ it's worth it faster than you can explain it."

Rolling her eyes, Max turned back to face her student. He was smirking slightly, and she couldn't help but smile a little before falling back into her stance. It wasn't distinctly threatening to look at, and had Fang not known it was a fighting stance he would have taken it as being unprepared for any kind of conflict.

She made a motion for him to come closer. "I want you to try and hit me," she stated, and Fang stopped in mid-step towards her, eyebrow raised. "Trust me, there's a high chance you won't hit the mark." When he still looked unsure, Max let a smile slip back onto her face. "Come on, I promise I know what I'm doing. Give me your best shot."

By now Fang had completely forgotten how cold he was, the adrenaline and heat flowing through his system more than enough to ward off the freezing wind by now. He seemed to deliberate this idea for a few seconds before finally stepping forwards, slipping into the stance that Iggy favoured rather than her own, more nimble one. He set his centre of gravity close to his feet, cementing himself to the ground and made to channel all his strength into the next punch.

"Don't forget to untense," she added quickly, and a slight nod told her he'd acknowledged the reminder. Then there was a moment of nothing, just breath steaming between them as both teens judged one another's ability and attempted to get the other upper hand.

Then Fang moved, and Max blurred into motion.

He had been aiming for her chin, but Max had swayed out of the way before he even got close, sending his momentum further to the side than he had accounted for. It was hard to recover from such a throw and a gentle tap to his stomach told him Max had wasted no time in countering this failed move. Had they really been fighting, he would be on the ground curled about his soft stomach, whimpering in pain.

She straightened before he did, slipping back into her stance before him like nothing had actually happened. "That's why a powerful first throw doesn't always work," she told him, letting her arms hang seemingly limply by her sides. "It's too easy to predict, to avoid and even to counter."

Recovering his neutral stance, Fang nodded in acknowledgement. He hadn't actually expected Max to move that fast and the loss was a surprise. As he fell back into Iggy's stance he started planning alternate moves and strategies without letting any of it show on his face. After a few seconds of silence between then, the two blurred into action again.

Still favouring the first punch, Fang went for her jaw again, throwing less of his energy into the hit. It was no surprise Max swayed out of the way as easily as before, but this time he could recover his stance and take a step backwards, getting in a second strike as Max moved in to plant her own.

She turned it, using her forearm to batter his arm down and to the side, rendering his strike useless. Then she brought in her own strike, aiming for the delicate position just below Fang's ribs, fixing her blow so it would merely wind.

To her surprise Fang mimicked the earlier move, turning the punch away and directing it towards the ground. Some fancy footwork saw her recovered much faster than he had done, but it still gave him time to line up a shot to her collarbone. A tilt of the body and the punch fell short while also angling her shoulder towards him, decreasing the space she needed to cover before hitting his stomach.

That same gentle touch told him the match was over, and he found he was sweating slightly, the cold suddenly apparent to him in sharp contrast to the heat within his body. He shuddered and wiped the freezing water from his brow as Max fell away from him again, a smile on her face as she slipped effortlessly into her limber pose.

"You're a quick study," she remarked, herself remaining oblivious to the cold. The exertion had barely touched her more athletically accustomed body and there was no sweat on her skin. Fang still hadn't returned to his fighting pose. He was more winded than he had expected to be and was letting his body recover.

She closed the distance between them to clap a hand on his shoulder. "You could do with some frequent training," she observed. He looked up at her with a smirk on his face, a match for her own smile, before straightening up. "Bring up your endurance a bit and you'll improve even faster."

It wasn't long after the kids returned, thoroughly pink from both the cold and their games. They'd finally had enough of the cold and the other kids company and wanted to go home to a mug of hot chocolate and a board game or two. The elder kids didn't require much convincing either and soon they were all bundled into the living room with blankets, mugs and Monopoly for another evening of games and laughter.

T'is the season, after all.


	58. On The Run

**Chapter 58**

It was in the early hours of Christmas Eve that the rain began to fall, peppering the piles of snow with little holes as its relative warmth dove through the icy remains of the earlier blizzard. Within hours most of the snow banks and subsequent ice had been reduced to puddles cars would plough through at high speed, the illusion of Christmas vanquished in favour of the mundane.

Though she had woken hours before the rain had begun, Nadia had not moved from the makeshift bed in the living room of her friend's house. Arianna's parents had been kind enough to put her up for the night – though they had specified in no uncertain terms it was to be just the one night – and pulled out the camping bed for the garage. It was old and battered, but it was better than the floor, and Nadia had taken it gratefully against sleeping on the street.

Every night since her talk with Nickolas, she had stayed around a friend's house. And every day, while most of them had offered for her to stay another night, she could see in their faces that they really could do without their daughter's stray friend this close to Christmas. Some had family members already staying in spare bedrooms, while others already lived in such a small home all they could offer was the sofa or the floor.

Thanking them for their hospitality she would excuse herself politely after breakfast to call someone else, hoping that someone wouldn't mind finding an extra bed for a friend in need at one of the most charitable times of the year. She had a lot of friends at school, but it seemed only a handful of them could afford or were willing to stretch their neck out for her in those few days, and she was running out of numbers.

She leant over the side of the camping bed slowly, hoping to minimalize any creaking as she reached for her phone. The illuminated numbers told her it was 7.30am, and the entire house was still slumbering upstairs, wrapped up in the blankets. With no sheets on offer in such a cramped household, Nadia had resorted to sleeping fully clothed, using her fluffy coat as a surrogate duvet.

Turning to lay on her back, Nadia began to flip through the contacts on her phone, trying to spot someone she hadn't already stayed with that _might_ take in a girl for Christmas. To be honest she wasn't holding out much hope for such a prospect, and after a few seconds locked her phone screen and leant her arms on her stomach with a sigh.

_Why does my life have to be so fucked up?_

Just thinking the word made her flinch, knowing it wasn't something that should come out of 12 year-old's mouth, and yet the language had become almost natural to her over the last few months. Her house had become a 24hour battle of wills between her Father and her Step-Brother, and neither had ever lacked the balls to back down.

_Until Nancy walked out_, she thought sadly, fingering the buttons on her phone thoughtlessly. _To think I actually thought my Father cared about them, when they went missing. How wonderful being naïve had been._

Of course, she knew this was nonsense. Being naïve of the majority of the situation hadn't done her any favours other than to remove her from her Father's violence. Now she'd also run away, chances are she would be just as susceptible to his anger as both Nancy and Nickolas had been when they were under his roof.

_I can never go home_, came the depressing thought, just as footsteps sounded on the roof above her. She realised her eyes were unfocused and let them adjust to the dim light, following the footsteps as they moved across the ceiling towards the hall. Rolling over, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, ignoring the footfalls on the stairs as someone ventured down into the new day.

Under her coat she unlocked the screen of her phone and began to browse contacts again. It wouldn't be long until she would have to leave and find somewhere else to stay. That was, if any of her friends could make room for a waif in their Christmas plans.

oOoOo

It was barely nine when there had been a solid knock on the door. Arianna's dad stood to go and answer it, leaving the rest of the family to continue eating breakfast and discuss whatever topics came to mind. Seated next to her friend, Nadia remained silent through the conversion, smiling and conversing only when directly addressed by a member of the household.

She had told the family an old relative had died and her Father had to go out of town to deal with their estates and funeral. He had deemed her old enough to look after herself, she had told them, but she found she wasn't comfortable being alone in that large house and needed to be around people.

This is what she'd told every family so far, and they took her in gladly, assuming her sombre and detached mood to be associated with the death of the family member. Her Father hadn't wanted to take her in case it upset her further, they had all rationalised, and danced about the subject of the dead relative like the plague.

It had worked wonders for her. Until now.

Arianna's Father stepped back into the dining room, a grin on his face. "Wonderful news, Nadia." He beamed, drawing attention to his face. A sudden sick feeling shot through her gut, and she knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips. "Your Father's made it home in time for Christmas! He's outside, waiting for you."

Beside her, Arianna whooped and nudged her with her elbow, obviously ecstatic for the friend who was going to have to spend Christmas alone until just a few seconds ago. Nadia herself seemed to have lost contact with her body from the waist up, and an odd, garbled noise she meant to be fear but was interpreted as excitement escaped from her throat.

"Well, go on child!" Her friend's Mother exclaimed from the other end of the table. When Nadia didn't move she motioned for her husband to do something, and he gave the girl's arm a gentle tug, pulling her from her seat. "Collect your things and go spend Christmas with your family."

Nadia could only nod and follow Arianna's dad out into the hall, taking a sideways glance at her Dad on the way into the living room. Her friend's Father had continued towards him and the man was all smiles, playing the happy Father who got to spend the holidays with his daughter after all. Everything in his face suggested it was a complete surprise he would get to do so, and he laughed along with Arianna's Dad about Nadia's seeming shock at the new situation.

In the living room, Nadia packed her belongings into her knapsack as slowly as possible. She pulled on her coat with unprecedented care and counted the buttons as she did them up with absolute perfection, the only thing she could think of to stall for time. She took long enough for her father to get antsy, it seemed. Arianna's Father popped his head in to check on her progress as she did up the last button.

A mini flash of brilliance hit her. "I'm not quite done." She said with a smile, unzipping her bag again for emphasis. The man gave her a funny look, but she pressed on. "Could you tell Dad I'll meet him in the car? I want to say goodbye to Arianna and thank you all properly for your hospitality. He'll get soaked waiting in the rain."

He ducked back out of the room, returning a few seconds later to confirm he would be waiting in the car for her. A part of her brain whooped with joy at that and she slipped out of the living room to go see her friend one more time.

The rest of the family had finished breakfast and were stacking the plates in the kitchen, ready to be put in the dishwasher. Waiting until she'd deposited her plate on the pile, Nadia pulled her friend aside and dragged her into the still vacant living room, careful not to trip over the camping bed in the process. She shut the door behind her and turned to face Arianna, who was staring at her in a way very similar to that of her Father just minutes before.

"Please tell me you have a back door," the mocha girl whispered, and her friend nodded once, though her look remained confused. She opened her mouth to comment but Nadia interrupted her instantly. "Does it lead out into the street?"

Arianna crossed her arms over her chest. "There's an alleyway behind the house," she started at normal volume, and creased her brows when Nadia shushed her. "We have a gate through to the alley, it'll take you to the main road."

Her friend seemed immensely relieved by this information. "What is this all about, Nadia?" She asked in a hushed voice, a look of concern now crossing her face. "You can go home. You can spend Christmas with your Father. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Throwing her backpack on, Nadia glanced at her friend as she reached for the doorknob. The girl had a worrying expression plastered across her features. She had no doubt her friend's mind was already making up made scenarios for why Nadia did not want to go home for Christmas, some of which could actually be worse than the truth, and the mocha girl sighed in both exasperation and exhaustion.

"It's complicated." She whispered in return, turning the door knob and pulling the door open. "Please can you do this one thing for me, Arianna, and stall my Father at the door? I need to be anywhere but at home right now."

Questions crossed her friend's face, and Nadia knew she would have to answer them sooner or later, but now was not the time for lengthy explanations. Arianna seemed to understand this. She nodded just once with a defeated look on her face, stepping out into the hall with her friend. The air felt heavy between them as they made their way into the back garden, slipping through without her parents noticing.

"I'll stall as long as I can," Arianna whispered as she unlocked the back gate. When Nadia went to step through the gap she caught a hold of the girl's shoulder and forced her to look her in the eye, to see the concern she was feeling. "Be careful."

Nadia nodded once, and then she was gone.


	59. Truth and Lies

**Chapter 59 - Truth and Lies**

Though she hadn't gotten far from her friend's back yard, Nadia could feel the muscles burning in her legs. She silently cursed her usual lack of exercise and forced herself to carry on, ignoring her slight stumbles and lack of breath, eyes on the main road ahead of her and hands holding her backpack tight to her back.

Anywhere but here – that's where she needed to be.

The sounds of the street cut through her ragged breathing as she neared the road; car engines and shouting children, beeping horns and roaring traffic desperate to reach the shopping mall and finish the last of the Christmas shopping. It seemed half the town had forgotten the holiday was so close until this morning and had to rush out with purses and children in tow to make tomorrow special after all.

Rain lashed her heated face, soaking her jeans in seconds. At this pace her hood refused to stay over her head and her hair was beginning to stick to her cheeks, a cold presence on flushed skin reminding her of her need to keep running. Her trainers splashed through puddles as she tried to force her legs to run faster, the main road just inches from her sight.

She had no idea where she was going from there. To the right lay her Father's car, meaning the only option available to her would be to surge left and hope something came to mind. In her panicked state the only address she could remember was that of Nickolas' girlfriend and all her senses told her to head to the safety of those four walls.

Then she would remember the sweet face of the little girl she'd met just a few days before, and she could not bear to drag her into this feud.

Turning the corner, she almost slipped on the wet pavement, catching herself on the wall just before the street caught up with her face. She let herself rest there for a second, her chest heaving through her shirt, her throat dry from both panic and exertion. Without too much thought she let the wall hold her up as rain continued to lash her face and hands, the bricks slippery beneath her fingers, before looking up.

Her heart almost stopped, thrown back into gear by the mounds of adrenaline already pumping through her system. She could feel her muscles shaking and could not remember if they had been before she'd seen him inches in front of her, but now they were trembling so harshly she thought the wall might crumble from the vibration.

Parked with two wheels on the path over double yellows was Mike's car. Shoppers and commuters alike beeped and swore at the obstruction as they were forced to pass it by crossing into another lane, or were cut off by another doing so. The lights were on and the wipers still swaying, waiting for its owner to return and take the wheel once more.

Blocking her path, Mike's clothes were beginning to soak through, suggesting he hadn't been standing there long. He had his hands in his pockets and his head down, his bald patch being cloaked by hair as it stuck to his scalp. His eyes had locked on hers the second she'd looked up, a coldness she had never seen before swimming in his pupils.

"Get in the car," he commanded. When there was no immediate response he added "Now," in such a tone that Nadia found she was obliging before she could even think; one second she was standing in the rain, the next she was buckled into the passenger seat of her Father's car as he pulled away from the curb, her door locked.

Silence ensued as the pair drove through the busy streets. Every time they were forced to stop at lights or cross roads Nadia had to fight the urge to unbuckle her belt and make a run for it into the rain, but there were few people on the streets to hide within and even less chance she would make any distance before he caught up with her.

That, and in his current mood, he might just run her over instead of trying to regain her.

_No_, she decided as she stared out of the window, pointedly looking anywhere but at her Father. _My best chance is to reason with him._ He had totally flipped when Nickolas and his mother had run away. A sideways glance showed his face to be creased in abnormal concentration, his knuckles white on the wheel, and Nadia judged her chances slim even if she did do as he said.

Soon they pulled up the long gravel driveway to what had been her house all her life. Now, as they approached the broad white building, it felt like she was being taken to prison. The plain walls loomed over their car as Mike pulled it into his preferred parking space, rain-soaked stones both crunching and slipping beneath the wheels, and Nadia felt her heart drop into her chest when he got out of the car without a word.

_He's going to kill me_, came the wild thought as he trekked around the front of the car, a hand reaching for her door handle. _I've upset him, and he's going to kill me_.

As soon as the door opened, a damp hand clamped down on her shoulder and dragged her from the car, forcing her to frogmarch up the steps towards the front door. Mike's grip didn't lessen as he slotted his key into the lock as calmly as if he had just come back from grocery shopping. Then the illusion was lost as he threw Nadia into the open doorway before entering himself, turning to bolt the door behind him.

Despite her lack of athletic ability, Nadia managed to catch herself before she fell face-first into the carpet. Her legs splayed awkwardly as she regained her balance and then she spun around to face the door. A sinking feeling slipped through her gut as Mike pushed the bolts across, only then turning to face his daughter.

The look splashed across his features was eerily calm; a lack of concern for what stood before him, as if it was just an animal ready for the slaughter and he held the machete. Nadia instinctively took a step away from the blank face of what used to be a caring father, taken aback by the general lack of anything in his eyes.

Is this what her Mother had seen before she died?

"Where are they?" His tone was low and level, not something Nadia had expected, and her muscles relaxed a little in response. Still she did not reply but stared at him blankly, a hand rubbing her aching shoulder. "Where the fuck are they, Nadia?" She tried to speak, to tell him she didn't know, but all she could manage was a shake of her head.

Mock surprise crossed her Father's face, and Nadia flinched. "Funny," he stated. "Because I can't think of another reason for you to have _lied_ to your Father." He took no steps towards her, but Nadia found herself taking a few cautionary steps backwards when his expression hardened. "Maybe you're trying to protect your bastard step brother, or even that whore Mother of his. I don't honestly care which one it is, it's the fact you lied to me, and continue to do so."

Swallowing hard, Nadia managed to find her voice. "I…I didn't lie…I was staying around a friend's…"

Without warning Mike was upon her, and she had no time to react. He grabbed her by the arm and flung her against the wall so hard Nadia briefly forgot what her name was. His forearm came up to her neck and pressed against her windpipe, eliciting a squeak of both surprise and fear from her throat.

She tried to pull his arm away but she could barely get a grip on his skin. Looming over her, he increased the pressure on her throat, hearing her cough and feeling her scratch his arm more forcefully. "I made some phone calls," he commented in a low tone. "You stayed around a lot of friends' houses. A different one every night. Someone would think you were trying to avoid me."

A high cry managed to escape Nadia's mouth as tears welled in her eyes. He seemed to ignore them, staring her down. "You lied to me then, Nadia." His voice was harsher than before, and she cringed away from it. "And you're lying to me now. I thought I raised you better, but it seems there's too much of your fucking Mother in you to produce a decent human being."

"Now," he added in a soft tone. "When I take my arm away, you're going to tell me what I want to know." When there was no response from his daughter he increased the pressure on her windpipe once more, smiled as the fear flashed across her face at his strength. "You will tell me what you know. Understand?"

She managed a nod and he let go abruptly, letting her small frame fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs while she sucked in lungfuls of air. Her chest felt like it was burning up from the inside and her legs were shaking from an adrenaline rush. Mike stepped back and let the girl recover, letting her pull herself to her feet and regain a little of her composure.

"Which one?" he asked her simply, and Nadia had to swallow hard and will her voice not to shake as she answered "Nick." She felt horrible inside for betraying him and knew nothing good was going to come from the confrontation that would surely follow this discussion.

When she had been little, she had idolised her Father. He was strong and wilful, and had worked his way up the ladder to own a large number of franchises across the country. He was rich and successful and wanted for nothing, and neither had she. Now, when she looked upon him, she saw a murderer. A shadow of her mother hung about his shoulders like a shade, and she worried what he would do to Nick and his Mother when he found them.

"Where?" Her Father pressed, his voice having maintained the soft tone adopted moments ago, when he had an arm to her throat, and she shuddered at the memory. She couldn't allow him to find Nickolas, especially not when he was staying at Max's house. She was fully aware of his impressions of the girl, as misplaced as they were, and knew she would not leave the argument unscathed either.

Her heart burned with the knowledge of what he'd taken away from her as a baby. She briefly wondered if it showed on her face when his own expression changed, and he took a step towards her. "Where?" He repeated in a harsher tone. "Where's the little shit hiding?"

She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"I remember everything," she said so quietly she barely heard the words leave her mouth. Mike seemed to miss them completely and demanded she repeat what she said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look directly at him. His anger was beginning to crack through his calm visage, creasing his face into an ugly grimace.

Briefly, she wondered if he would kill her for this. But the slight lightening in her chest from the last exclamation told her she needed to do it. She looked him directly in the eyes and steeled her own expression to blankness. "I remember _everything_."

At first the words seemed to fall on deaf ears, and his face creased in confusion. Maybe he pondered if she remembered the beatings he had given Nickolas and Nancy, the ones she had forgotten after her accident and he assumed she still did not remember. Then a look of realisation crossed his face, his grip on her chin tightened, and she knew he understood.

She knew he'd murdered her Mother.

"If you kill me now," she added in a soft tone, "You'll never know where Nick is hiding." His face hardened even further, but the grip on her chin lessened with the realisation. His breathing seemed to have become ragged, as if he had run a mile, and his face was tinging red beneath his permanent tan.

Yet she had him under her nail. "You're going to give me the key in your pocket and leave the house," she told him, still maintaining eye contact, willing herself to stay strong. "I'm going to make sure every window and door in the house is locked and bolted, and then I'll call your mobile and tell you the address."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she interjected. "If I hear you breaking into the house, I'll call the police. And I'll squeal."

They stood, locked in eye contact, for what seemed like hours to Nadia. While his hand had dropped from her chin Mike remained barely a foot in front of her, mulling over the ultimatum his daughter had just given to him. He hadn't expected it, and neither had she. Every muscle in her body was screaming for her to run and forget the deal, that he wouldn't take it, that he could kill her before she could scream.

Then he had stepped back. A hand slipped in his pocket and pulled the key out, holding it out to the girl before him with a look of contempt plastered across his face. After a slight hesitation she took it from him and curled her fist tightly around the object. He reached into his back pocket and removed the key to the back door from the set, handing that to his daughter in much a similar fashion.

With that he unbolted and stepped out the door. Once he was out of sight Nadia collapsed against the wall for support, the muscles in her legs giving way under her weight. As soon as she could muster the strength she closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it and slide across every bolt it possessed. Afterwards she set about checking every window and door, making sure they were closed and the bolts and locks were set in place.

Her phone started ringing as she checked the last window. It was her Father, obviously anxious to set off and ruin someone else's life. She had wanted to phone Nickolas first and give him a head's up, but if she hung up on Mike now, who knows how he would have reacted. Instead she answered the phone and gave the man the address, knowing she was sending Nick and his girl's family the most horrible Christmas present.

As soon as Mike hung up, she would call and warn them. She just hoped it would be enough time.


	60. Nowhere To Go

**Nowhere To Go**

Light was filtering in through the blinds, but the rays didn't seem to disturb Max as they splayed across her face. Beside her, Fang propped himself up on an elbow and watched her sleep, savouring the restful expression on her features. He wiped some stray hairs from her face with utmost care as to not wake her.

She was going to be angry he unplugged her alarm again.

Checking his watch he noted it was almost 9:30am. The kids had gotten up about an hour ago, minus Angel who'd been awake since six, and were all downstairs watching cartoons together in the living room. Everyone was going to have a lazy day today it seemed, with all the kids still in their pyjamas, sat cross legged on the floor with bowls of cereal.

Max stirred and took in a deep breath, and arm stretching out beside her as she finally returned to the real world. Her eyes opened to slits and Fang couldn't help but smile at the sleepy expression on her face. She smiled back, bringing an arm up to rub an eye, scrunching her face up to yawn. Rolling onto her back she pulled herself into a semi-upright position, arching her spine to stretch out the muscles.

"You slept well," she looked down at Fang, his head still propped up by an elbow. His already unruly hair had grown to the point where it shielded one eye, but he seemed to be making no attempt to allow himself to see better. Dressed in just sweat pants he was stretched out on top of the duvet, and a flush of warmth spread through Max's system at the sight.

Reaching over, she brushed the hair from his eyes, a sleepy smile still on her face. They still only cuddled when they shared the bed, and Fang hadn't mentioned going any further since their last chat, and she wondered if he thought about it. He didn't give any indications that such thoughts were going through his mind, and yet she assumed they must, given he was a teenager.

A phone began to ring and, although she didn't recognise the ring tone, Max started searching for her phone. Though it was a mobile she never took it out of the house – when her Father had been alive it was used as their home phone, and she still hadn't gotten out of the habit of leaving it on the table in the living room before she left every day.

Tilting his body slightly, Fang rescued his phone from the floor before correcting his angle again. He had a much more modern phone than Max, a touch screen that seemed too thin to actually function, and across the screen was now pasted the name of the caller. He frowned when he saw the name 'Nadia', hesitating a couple seconds before answering.

"I'm sorry," his Step Sister's voice, a little distorted through the phone line, came through the receiver. "I'm so sorry, Nick. I panicked and I didn't know what to do, and I could only think of friend's addresses, and he would have known I was lying and he would have gotten back in and killed me before the police could get here, and I was so scared. I didn't mean t-"

"Nudge," he interrupted her, his voice calmer than he actually felt. Beside him Max had stopped looking for her phone and was watching him curiously. Her expression had dropped to a slight concern and her hands were folded in her lap, playing with the leg of her shorts. "Slow down and start again," he prompted Nadia as he pulled himself into an upright position. "What happened?"

He could hear her shaken breathing. "He found me, Nick." She said softly. "He found me and dragged me home, and I thought he was…he was…" She paused to take a long breath. "I thought he would kill me, and I'm sure he was going to. I had to bargain with something and your location was all I had…"

Closing his eyes, Fang let the information swim around his head as the girl continued. "I was going to lie. Please believe me I was going to lie!" She added into the silence. "But when it came to telling him I froze, and the only address I could remember that he wouldn't recognise was the house you were staying in."

Turning his head to Max, he felt a sick feeling rising in his stomach. While she still seemed concerned, she couldn't hear the conversation, and as such was completely oblivious to what was coming their way in the near future. His face slipped into an apology, and she creased her expression in response.

"He knows where I am."

She was on her feet faster than he could follow – he blinked and missed the motion. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and reached down for the shirt he'd worn yesterday, discarded on the floor late last night. "Nadia," he addressed her, interrupting the stream of apologies that had continued to flow from her mouth. "Get out of that house. It doesn't matter where you go. Just get out."

"I've nowhere to go," she whispered in response, the fear evident in her voice. "If I go to a friend's house a few phone calls will send him in the right direction. And even if they don't he could just knock on every door until he finds me." There was a pause, where neither teen knew what to say, before Nadia broke the silence. "I'm scared, Nick. So scared."

He pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder to pull on a shoe, not bothering to undo and re-tie the laces. "Do you remember the park we went to, when we had a chat?" He enquired, and waited for some kind of acknowledgement before continuing. "Dress warmly and wait for me there. Don't go with anyone unless I come and get you myself. If Mike turns up, there's a toilet block down the bottom of the park. Lock yourself in a cubicle and call me."

With that she hung up the phone, and he had to assume it was to run. Letting the phone drop onto the bed he pulled his other shoe on, again ignoring the laces, before dragging his dirty shirt over his head. He stood and grabbed his phone before running out onto the landing to take the stairs two at a time, knowing all the while his time was ticking.

The living room was now a hive of activity as Max bundled the kids into coats and shoes. Iggy was asking incessant questions as he pulled his own jacket on with expert precision, while Max was on her haunches doing up Angel's coat with too much care for the situation at hand. Gasman was still playing with the buttons on his coat and Fang knelt down to help him, getting them done with much more efficiency.

"What are you going to do?" Fang asked the stressed looking girl before him, and she shot him a look that suggested she didn't have much of an idea. "He's coming for _me_, not the rest of you. Just go upstairs a-"

"I'm not just abandoning you," Max interrupted, her gaze still fixed on his face. The determination that crossed her features surprised Fang, not because he didn't expect it but because of its intensity. "You're one of the family, Nick, and I won't stand by while that monster snatches you from the doorway and then pretend you never came into my life."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she looked away from him, and her features slipped into sadness. The words drifted from his mind and were forgotten in an instant. "I know he's going to kill you," she added in a soft tone, adjusting Angel's collar so it fit just right around her neck. He hadn't doubted for a second she would have figured it out, and yet the words coming from her mouth made the situation seem much more real. "I need to get the kids somewhere safe first, but I'm not going to let him take you from me."

Behind them, Iggy finished wrapping his scarf about his neck and pulled a hat over his fluffy blonde hair. "So what exactly do you plan to do?" He queried, pulling both teen's attention to his pale eyes. He had his hands in his pockets and a morose look on his face. "It's not like we have anywhere we can go to hide out."

There was a sharp bang on the door, eliciting an involuntary squeal from Angel, who flung her arms around Max's neck in an instant. Every other eye was now focused in the direction of the front door, and Max's brain was being forced to work fast. Another sharp bang and a few tears of fear escaped Angel's eyes into Max's shirt.

They didn't have time for indecision.

"I'll take the kids somewhere safe," she said in a low tone, hoping whoever was kicking their door in would be unable to hear her. Another sharp bang sounded, and the door made an unhealthy sound beneath the punishment. "You lead him to the main road, where there will be more witnesses." She stood, an arm around Angel to keep her held to her chest. Beside her Fang followed suit, nodding in agreement.

oOoOo

Ushering the kids into the hall to head through the kitchen and out the back door, Max paused to look back at Nickolas, who had stopped to stare at the front door. Another bang, and the door noticeably cringed under the assault, wood splintering from the blow. She touched the boy's arm, pulling his eyes back to hers for a brief second. "If you can, call the police." And with that addition, she was gone.

Calling what lay beyond the Martinez back door a garden was a stretch of the term, for there was no grass. The small square of space was paved over and mostly ignored by the residents of the house, meaning the only green to be seen was the moss that had taken to growing between the patio tiles. Many of the paving stones had cracked or weathered in the years the household had lived there and remained clean only because of rainfall.

The paving stones were one again ignored by the Martinez family as the piled out of the kitchen door, Max bringing up the rear with Angel still attached to her neck. Their garden was flanked by countess other ones; the gardens of neighbours and the gardens of the houses on another road separated by a seemingly endless sea of low wooden fences.

As the rain soaked her thin camisole, Max realised that in her haste to get the kids ready, she had forgotten to prepare herself for the cold. While she had thrown a pair of trainers onto her feet the majority of her arms and legs were exposed to the freezing rain. With no time to go and rescue herself a coat, she allowed herself a single shudder from the cold before trying to ignore the adverse weather conditions.

Taking a second to get her bearings, Max hoisted Angel over a wall and set her down on the other side. With a similar motion she transferred Gasman to the other side of the fence before clambering over, checking Iggy's route was clear before allowing him to climb after them. A line of fences, seemingly unending but really consisting of six or seven yards, stood between them and their destination.

They were going to the only place she could think of – the park.


	61. Confrontation: Part 1

**Confrontation: Part 1**

Despite trying to compose himself, a shudder of fear struck every nerve in Fang's body with each slam to the door. It survived much longer than he expected it to – five more kicks after Max and the kids had run out of the back – before it caved in under Mike's foot, leaving nothing but air between the teen and his angry Step Father.

And boy did he look angry.

Behind Mike the rain drove against the steps, pattering out a drumbeat that seemed to match Fang's racing heart. What had been just a sprinkle early this morning had turned into a full-on downpour, obliterating any remnants of snow that had been clinging to the pathway. He half expected a thunderbolt to crash behind the man, for added emphasis, but he was disappointed.

The rain had done a pretty good job of soaking through Mike's clothes, and his hair was dripping. Rain flowed down the contours of his face and from the tip of his nose. In any other circumstance Fang would have found the image before him hilarious, but the murderous look plastered across the man's face kept the teen's muscles twitching in fear rather than amusement. Mike was breathing deep but not fast, and Fang could just see his car parked outside the house.

A growl escaped Mike's throat, and Fang instinctively took a step backwards. "Mark my words, Nickolas." The tone had the hairs on the back of Fang's neck standing to attention. He took another step backwards as Mike stepped into the house, his soaking form already turning the carpet a deeper shade. "If you run, like a fucking coward, this will hurt much more than it has to."

One more step and his back was pressed to the wall. With Mike closing the distance between them quicker than was comfortable, Fang weighed up his options. To his right was a staircase he had no hope of climbing from this angle, behind was a rather sturdy wall between him and the kitchen, and to his left the door to the dining room – an extension of the kitchen that also contained the back door.

Mike lunged, and Fang dived left.

As he skirted the table, Fang heard the man crash into the wall with a force he was sure would have broken one of his own ribs had he hung about to find out. The back door was wide open, rainwater pooling about the entrance. He heard Mike swear in anger as he dived for the door, grabbing the set of keys on the windowsill on the way past.

He slammed the door behind him and quickly assessed the lock, ignoring the rain as it began to soak his thin shirt. Once he had the design he fingered through the keys as swiftly as one could with cold, soaking fingers to find a match. The few seconds it took felt like hours. He expected Mike to yank the door open and drag him inside with every frantic heartbeat.

Then he found it. He heard the table get flipped onto its side, an obstruction for the angry man no longer, as he shoved the key into the lock and turned it with as much force as possible.

A reassuring click later, and the door was locked. Inside the house, Mike was yanking on the handle with all his might, his face twisted into a frightening grimace through the distorted window panes. Fang briefly let himself breathe, taking a few steps away from the door, allowing the cold to soak into his consciousness for a moment.

Then Mike started kicking the frame, and Fang was running again.

While he had muscles, Fang had never been one for regular exercise. His old girlfriend had demanded that as she had to be on a constant diet to maintain her shape – something Fang couldn't get his head around – then he should also have to make an effort to stay in shape for her, and that required him to work out.

He had, to some degree. He'd put some effort into toning his muscles, but never beefed them up, as Brigid had wanted him to. They remained just toned for the majority of their relationship, and then fell into disuse when his parents had split and moved on with their lives.

Now he cursed his idleness as he vaulted over the garden fences. While he was able to support his own weight as he swung himself over the fences, the fatigue was straining on him quickly, and after six or seven jumps it was getting a little harder to muster the strength to swing his legs over after him. It was after the eighth fence of about fifteen that he heard the back door finally give way under Mike's boot, and spun to look back.

The man was quick on his feet and already hauling himself over the first fence. Fitter than Fang, his stamina would last longer, but he also had a large bulk of muscle to drag over the fences, whereas Fang's frame was lean and compact. A second's view was plenty for the teen and he spun on his heels to take fence number nine, the road ahead already in sight.

His energy waning, Fang stumbled his landing on the pavement, having to compensate with his landing leg to prevent his face having an intimate relationship with the street. Without even a glance backwards he started to sprint for the main road, which connected to this one a little further up in a four way intersection.

This, he reasoned, would be the best place to get beaten up - lots of witnesses.

"Get back here you little shit!" The man had made it to the street in less time than Fang has expected, and a flutter of fear found its way into his heart and messed with his breathing. Suddenly he had no idea if he would make it to the main road before Mike caught up with him. While this was not necessarily essential for someone to notice their fight, it was his current goal, and a rush of energy shot through him as the adrenaline willed him to run faster.

Once again he found himself wearing down faster than he hoped. At two thirds of the way there he was out of breath and sweating like it were a summer day on the equator, his shirt soaked through with rainwater and salts alike. The drops beat directly into his face and left him unable to see, but this was probably true for Mike as well, and as such Fang just ran blindly towards his destination.

He had to make it. He just had to.

oOoOo

Slowing down to a jog, Max let her breathing settle as fast as it would. Behind her she felt Iggy copy her new speed, the hand that had been gripping the back of her camisole loosening now they were at a slower pace.

It was still pouring with rain as they approached the park. The cold, moist air had been cruel to Max's lungs while they sprinted to their destination, and Iggy didn't seem to have fared much better with his heavy breaths and occasional coughs. Their coats had kept the kids mostly dry and warm throughout the trip and Iggy had flushed bright pink under his winter jacket, a contrast to the pale Gasman he held to his chest.

Pausing at the gateway to the park, Max placed Angel down on the sodden pavement and smoothed the young girl's soaking curls away from her face. She looked somewhere between confused and terrified, and it broke Max's heart to see the expression. Then all traces of the emotions were eradicated from the girl's face as she smiled up at her sister.

"I'll look after them," she stated in her best mother-imitating voice, and Max felt a swell of pride in her stomach at the young girl's strength. Behind her, Iggy placed his younger brother on the floor, and the young lad took his hand and led him into the park gates, as if they had arrived to play on the swings again.

Max gave her little Angel a kiss on the head. "I know you will," she said softly, ushering the young girl into the park after her siblings. "I need you to keep an eye open for Nick's Step Sister," she added when the girl had stepped through the gates. She looked for a sign of understanding on the girl's face, but it creased in thought instead. "The girl who came to the door almost a week ago."

The young girl smiled in memory and nodded in response, before running after her siblings into the trees. Max gave herself just a few seconds to catch her breath, allowing her lungs a little time to recover from the last sprint, but soon the cold was telling on her resolve and then she was off again.

It had been a while since she'd done so much running, but having to walk everywhere seemed to have kept her muscles in a generally good state of repair over the years. While she still tired from the exertion she was much more accustomed to the exercise than Fang or even Iggy, who did less walking than she herself did on a daily basis and had done less defence training than herself anyway.

Slipping back into her old habits, Max regulated her breathing and carefully judged her body movements as she sprinted down the street. Her shoulders turned to counterbalance her hips, her legs never overreached their optimum length to help maintain her speed. Her footwork had to be perfect to not slip over in the rain, and she had a few near-incidents on corners and on particularly soaked paving stones.

But still she kept running. Her shirt was soaked through and her skin had a sheen of rain water, ready to steal her body heat the second she stopped exercising. Despite her fitness she was sweating around the neck and arms, salts sinking into the fabric of her clothes and making her flushed skin itchy.

Her muscles began to burn , but she ignored it. She couldn't afford to take a break.

oOoOo

Breathing heavily, Fang came to an ungainly stop by the side of the main road. Every muscle in his body was on fire, his chest included, and he could not contain the coughs that forced their way out the second he stopped. The cold, moist air had ravaged the tissues within his delicate lungs and for a second he thought he might choke up some blood.

Doubled over and coughing, he didn't hear Mike catching up until he was barely feet behind. The teen had to force himself to spin around and take a few steps away from the man, his body not having had enough time to recover itself. Whether it was from the cold, the rain battering or his own anger, Fang couldn't tell, but Mike's face had gone an odd dark red shade rather than his normal dark tanned skin, and he seemed to be grating his teeth together as he stared the boy down.

This meant he didn't have enough time to call the police. _Shit_.

Mike took a step towards his wayward Step Son, and the boy instantly took a step back, or so it seemed. Nick slipped into the fighting pose Max had been using in their few training sessions but found it incredibly painful on his already exhausted legs. He managed to hold it long enough to dodge Mike's first swing before he fell from the stance back into the one he and Iggy both used.

Even in this stance he was able to implicate some of Max's training. His arms were not as tired as the rest of his body, and as such his defence was in good order for the time being. Fang forced himself to ignore the rain and concentrate on reading Mike's movements, trying to predict what punch the man would likely go for next, and get an arm in the way to block or deflect the hit.

He found it was very hard to block Mike's blows. The few he did try to directly block all broke through and managed a decent hit on their target – one to the collarbone, one to the shoulder, one to the chin – each hit made the boy stumble away from the his angry Step Father and forced him to have to spend precious moments recovering from the blows and returning to a defence stance.

_I can't keep this up_, the teenager realised pretty quickly, though the blow to his chin really scrambled his head. He'd almost taken another blow, this time to the temple, in his recovery period, which would have wound up with him defenceless or unconscious on the floor. _I need to get on the offensive, and hope for a miracle._

Maybe something changed in his eyes, Fang wasn't quite sure, but an odd shadow crossed Mike's eyes at exactly the time he decided to change tactics. Suddenly, he took the smallest opening the man offered to him, and Mike was ready to deflect and block blows as if he'd been on the defensive since the beginning of the fight.

What surprised Fang was that, for a second, he looked _scared_ of the boy before him. The teen had never fought back this efficiently before, and all his hits had been lucky shots. He had always managed to ground him within seconds, defusing the kid's own anger with violence, but not this time.

This time he as fighting back, and he seemed to know what he was doing.

Even though he was driving the man to lay off, Fang knew he wasn't getting anywhere with this new approach. He gained no ground on the man, but only expended energy trying to land blows on a man who's reflexes were much faster than his own. His right shoulder complained every time the boy tried to use it in an attack, and he could taste iron in his mouth, suggesting at least one of his gums was bleeding.

A minute later and he overshot the man's shoulder by accident. It was the same thing that always led to his loss against Max – misjudging the distance and force required for a hit – and his fist fell way past the man's left side. He knew it was over before the pain even hit him, before Mike's knee came into contact with his nose, and before he landed flat on his back on the soaking pavement.

Warm blood tricked from the boy's face, but Fang was ignoring it. He tried to scramble to his feet before Mike took advantage of the situation, but his shoes failed to find any friction on the soaked paving stones, and a stumble gave his Step father ample time to clamp and hand around the boy's comparatively slender neck and haul him to his feet.

He slammed the young lad into the closest object, the brick wall surrounding a small complex of apartments, and began to squeeze on his windpipe. Gasping in pain and sudden fear, Fang clawed at the man's hand with his own and managed to find purchase by digging slightly into his own neck. Then he began to haul his hands away with all his strength, feeling the rush of air fill his lungs the next time he inhaled.

Mike's left hand came up and dragged one of the boys hands away from his own, pinning it to the wall beside the lad's suspended form. His hand slipped effortlessly back against the lad's throat and continued to squeeze the life out of him. Fang's clawing became more frantic as time passed, and the man smirked in his face as his own began to turn a combination of red and blue.

The sadist loosened his grip just slightly, allowing enough air into the boy's lungs to prevent asphyxiation. "You had to fucking run," he commented, but the smirk plastered across his face told Fang he was enjoying this much more than he should be.

The pressure increasing on his windpipe again, Fang threw all his energy into keeping the man's hand at bay, but it seemed to be futile. Attempts to twist his other arm free resulted in the wrist being bent backwards, and for a second he almost forgot to keep pressure on the hand closed around his throat. Mike moved closer to the squirming form, their noses almost touching, and grinned. "The little bastard ran away, and now he's going to have to pay for it."

"Oi, Fucktard."

Despite himself, Mike turned, and was forced to release Fang's hand to do so. The teen wasted no time in relieving the pressure from his windpipe, unable to focus on anything else until he had fresh air in his system once more.

On the corner of the crossroads was a teenage girl dressed only in a thin camisole and shorts, soaked through to a dark shade by the rain. They clung to her body and picked out her thin lines, the hip bones that jutted from her skin and the few ribs her tiny frame failed to conceal. At first Mike didn't believe such words had been uttered by such a waif of a girl, breathing heavily but not doubled over, simply catching her breath after a run.

Then she pointed at him, her chest still heaving, her breasts outlined by the soaked fabric and her hair stuck to her face, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her features creased into an anger that did nothing for her otherwise pretty face.

"Get the fuck off of my boyfriend."


	62. Confrontation: Part 2

_So, obviously, its been a while._

_I know people always make excuses at this point, and I'm probably going to be no exception. I should have warned you that I would not be updating for a while, and I apologise for that right now. Unfortunately not only did I have a wedding to plan and then attend, I had numerous exams between April and June. When I revise, I write my notes out. Writing anything else out would have been detrimental to my studying, so I could not write any of this story at all._

_And then I ended up working almost every day. So yeah. No time there either. Now, I'm leaving for my honeymoon tomorrow, so I'll be gone til Saturday/ Sunday. Then I can get onto writing the next chapter of this story. For those that sent messages, this story is far from over, but this plot arc is. I may split it into two stories instead of continuing this one._

_I haven't decided. Let me know._

_So, here we go. A four page fight scene. You've totally been waiting for this for ages. No pun intended on the _actual_ wait time. Enjoy._

* * *

**Confrontation: Part 2**

She'd hoped he would have dropped Fang then and there. As much as the man's hatred centred on his Step-Son, she was sure he would quite happily transfer that rage to the girl he assumed had 'corrupted' the mildly obedient lad. Instead, he turned back to the teenager and delivered a shark kick to his privates.

Fang grunted, and Max found herself cringing at the expression on his face; somewhere between surprise and intense pain. It was then Mike allowed the teen to fall to the ground with a soft thud. "You better fucking stay down," he spat at the boy, giving him a sharp kick to the back of the head for good measure. It was only then, after Fang was silent and still on the pavement, he turned his attention to the new arrival.

As he advanced on her, Max let herself take a few steps back, letting the man revel in the fear he thought he created within her. In reality she did so only to boost his ego. The surprise of this thin girl being more than just a waif should be enough for her to gain the upper hand, at least for a few second.

She paused, her dominant leg set back, and waited for her moment.

He behaved as she expected; his movements were slower then she knew he was capable of, and his movements less measured. It was as if he believed he were simply plucking a flower from a rosebush. He seemed to have no concept that this flower had thorns. His hand reached for her neck, large and calloused in comparison to her own.

It was when his outstretched hand was just inches from her flesh that she moved. Faster than even she expected her left arm rose and knocked his from its path. The motion knocked his reach off balance and he learned further forward than he planned, his grasp reaching well over her head. Then her right hand came in and delivered a blow directly to his stomach, one of the weaker parts of even a muscled man.

He grunted and took a step backwards, lowering his head and moving a hand to the pain in his stomach. Never one to waist an opportunity, Max used this to launch a roundhouse kick at his chin, catching him with the full force of her swing. Such a move would knock someone of Fang's stature clean off his feet and have him dazed from the collision with the floor.

To Max's surprise, his head snapped to the side, but the man barely stumbled. She found herself staring at Mike in shock, as if he were a hulking green monster who'd survived a nuclear holocaust. In this time he was able to recover and meet her gaze, spitting a shot of blood onto the already soaking paving stones between them and wiping the excess from his lips with the back of his hand.

Previous injuries seemingly forgotten, he lunged, and Max found herself dancing away from more blows than she could count. She was highly aware of the busy road behind her, and forced herself to remain on the pavement as she dodged and ducked numerous swings from her boyfriend's Step-Father.

He may have been strong, but he was predictable. His shots were not as fast as Max could move, and as such she was able to control the tide of the match, where they ended up moving to and the time between her own punches. Meandering though his onslaught she find a few openings, and Max utilised them by delivering punches and jabs as hard as she could into the man's chest and stomach.

But it wasn't enough. She was tiring, while his own jabs remained constant.

The ten minutes that passed felt like hours to the teenage girl. She could feel the warm sweat on her neck and face being replaced by freezing rainwater as she continued to prance about the man's offence. Her usually solid legs began to waver, and her reaction times began to slow. For a full two minutes she didn't manage to land a punch, but found herself instead being driven towards a wall, limiting her manoeuvrability to almost nothing.

Her breathing heavy and her arms feeling like they were turning to lead, she finally stumbled. Her foot slipped on the wet pavement and she didn't have the energy resources to compensate as she had done before. She caught herself on the cobblestones just to have Mike's foot connect with her windpipe, lifting her off the ground and throwing her three feet nearer to the main road. It was so close, had she been thinking coherently, she would have scrambled to remove her head from the gutter.

But her thoughts were jumbled by the fall. All she was aware of as Mike advanced on her was the sharp pain in her windpipe, and difficulty sucking in a breath. Almost every muscle in her body ached and, after her contact with the pavement, her face was aflame with pain and one of her legs felt oddly numb. Dazed, she blinked and tried to focus on the man looming over her, but even when his foot pressed against her throat she could barely remember where she was.

Mike was sneering at the defenceless girl beneath his boot, obviously enjoying the power he felt from crushing those smaller than himself. He increased the pressure on her windpipe, feeling the semi-conscious girl claw at his boot from animal instinct, and spat both blood and salvia onto her face, narrowly missing an eye.

"Not so fucking mouthy now, are we?" He growled. Below him, the teenager writhed in both pain and panic. Her chest was rising and falling so fast she seemed like a pair of bellows. He wondered if any air was getting to her lungs at all, and pressed his boot a little harder into her neck, just to be sure. "You and your fucking boy-"

He didn't get to finish his statement before he was body-charged off of the girl. Max gasped and drew in as much air as her lungs would allow, a hand coming up to her throat as if she could defend it from any more harm with such slender digits. Coughing uncontrollably, she glanced in the direction he had fallen, but the rain was so heavy and the visibility so poor he was already out of sight.

The urge to run was strong within her, but Max found she could barely muster the energy to keep her eyes open. Beside her, Fang had tried to keep track of the man's figure in the mist, but he rolled out of sight within seconds. His shoulder ached from slamming him off of Max, but he ignored it, finally taking his eyes off of the mist to kneel next to the girl he loved.

She was still staring after her assailant's body when he stroked her cheek, and he felt her jump under his touch as she turned to look at him. He lightly brushed away some hair that had become stuck to her forehead and noted some of her hair was matted with warm blood, though the rain was doing a reasonable job of clearing it. She had a large graze wound filled with gravel along one cheek and her mouth was dark with blood, but she managed a smile that he mirrored, stroking some soaking strands of hair from her face.

Carefully, he pulled Max's arm around his shoulders and hauled her to her feet, her light frame suddenly feeling like a dead-weight. He noted that while she stood to take some of the weight from his tired muscles, her left leg was basically useless. A closer inspection showed a wound similar to the one on her face along the length of her calf, but it was deeper, gravel embedded in her flesh.

Fang helped her over to a wall and rested her against it, handing her his cell phone. "Call the cops," he said quickly, cautiously glancing over his shoulder. The rain was beginning to ease but he could still barely see the road. "And an ambulance. I'll hold him off until-"

"Fang," her voice was hoarse, weaker than he'd ever heard it before, and it made him start. Looking back at her he noticed that she had tears in her eyes. As they touched her cheek, rainwater drowned then and made them obsolete, but they were definitely there. "Please. I need you…I love you…"

Her words trailed off into tears. Max dropped her head and let them fall, the cold and the pain seeping into her consciousness until she shuddered from head to toe. A feeling of hopelessness engulfed her, and she almost dropped Fang's phone as she allowed herself to slip down the wall onto the damp pavement below. It seemed like forever before Fang crouched in front of her, took her chin in his hand and gently angled her face towards his.

Cheeks flushed and eyes red from crying, her hair stuck to her face by the rain, Max looked more vulnerable than she had since her Dad died. She was on the verge of giving up and letting his Step-Father trample over her, snuff out her life and end everything. Maybe it was because she thought he himself was about to condemn himself to death, facing his Step-Father again while waiting for the cops.

He'd never felt needed before. Sure, his Mother had been grateful for the times he'd taken a beating for her, but she had never expressed his presence as necessary. She had despised him for a while due to his likeness to his Father. His ex-girlfriend had wanted him, but not needed him. Until now he'd been an extra in other people's lives, just an add-on some liked and some hated.

But Max _needed_ him. He couldn't let her down.

He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. Then he stood and turned towards the misty rain and, like a clichéd horror movie, he could finally see Mike's outline in the haze. Fang felt his jaw stiffen defiantly as the two men faced each other down, one lean and toned against another large and muscled. Behind him, Fang heard Max talking to the emergency services. It would be a good ten minutes before anyone showed up.

Even in such poor weather, he could tell by his stance that Mike was angry beyond words. His chest heaved beneath his soaking shirt, the fabric of which hung to the contours of his muscles, and his hands continuously balled and flexed.

Taking calm, measured steps towards him, Fang realised that he didn't feel the fear he had before. In all other confrontations, even when he had been defending his mother, he remembered experiencing a strong wave of fear before the fight began. Now, he found himself measuring up his opponent with a cool head, his focus entirely on one goal as he allowed his body to slip into the fighting stance Iggy favoured.

He had to protect Max. She needed him to do this.

He considered the family she had hiding in the park, waiting for her to come and collect them. He thought of little Angel and her brother Gasman playing board games and watching TV in the living room together, laughing along with Iggy at something he'd said. He remembered Max standing at the stove, obviously unsure what she was doing unless the food came in a tin, trying to care for her family.

_If I fail, that will be gone forever_. He considered. He raised his arms into a defensive stance, waiting for his step-Father to lunge. _If I let Max down, everything she's done will be for nothing_. He could feel his muscles tensing and forced them to relax, controlling the anger he was feeling, bottling it up so he could channel it into violence. _They'll lose the one thing holding them together_, he added mentally, reading Mike's first move and taking the steps to dodge it. He managed to turn a jaw-shattering punch into a jaw-jarring tap and took a few steps away from the man. _I'll lose everything I've come to care for…they're like my family._ Mike swung again, and this time, Fang ducked under the man's punch, silently thankful for the man's predictability.

_This is for my family!_ He yelled within his mind, and threw all of his force into the man's stomach. Added to Mike's own momentum from his missed punch, the impact made him groan in pain, and he staggered back a few paces more than he had from previous hits. Max had been fast, but Fang had the muscle, and with the man doubled over he wasted no time in funnelling his anger into a roundhouse kick.

The kick caught Mike squarely in the jaw as he recovered from the stomach jab. The blow threw him from his feet and he landed two feet away, a resounding thud on the tarmac. Silence filled the street as Fang stared down at his Step-Father's non-moving form. The rain seemed incredibly loud, like bullets, as he waited for the man to move, but he remained face-down on the ground without a peep.

It was only when a car drove over the man's body Fang realised how close he was to the road.

Startled, the teenager took a step away from the curb, his eyes not leaving Mike's body as he did so. He found his breathing was off the scale, and his fist was bleeding, the blood washing away in the heavy rain that was slowly beginning to lessen. His muscles finally gave way and he stumbled over his own feet trying to step backwards, landing on his behind with a soft thud, eyes still on the motionless, now distorted figure of his Step-Father.

Though he had no idea how long he sat there, Max joined him after a few minutes, dragging herself along the pavement to wrap an arm around him. The rain slowly began to ebb away, and Fang could hear sirens in the distance, but he still could not take his eyes off the form of his Step-Father.

He couldn't believe it was finally over.


	63. A Family Formed

_Hello._

_Well look at that, another update, and so close to the last one. I must be on a roll, or a bun, or something bread-related. Maybe I'm just amazing...yeah, that's probably it. But here you go, another chapter, this one a lot less dramatic and a little filler I suppose, but I feel it's a necessary part of the plot and therefore it shall be included._

_Thank you all for the reviews while I was away. I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it enough to send me feedback (and such flattering feedback at that; I might not be able to get out the door later.) and a few more, since I seem to have gained a half dozen alerts on both my story and myself._

_Enjoy. xx_

* * *

**Chapter 63**

As a kid Nudge had always wondered why one would bother putting a roof on something that would only serve a purpose if the rain held off, particularly in a town that saw so few concerts as it was. Now, as she watched the downpour continue to turn the grass to muddy sludge, she had never been more grateful for the roof on the bandstand in the park.

She had only been under cover for a few minutes before she heard voices. At first she had panicked, chastised herself for picking such a blindly visible place and being afraid of a little rain. It was at that point she had remembered Fang would look for her by the swing and, while she could see them from there, she wondered if he would hear her call out when he arrived.

The voices having gotten louder, her brain had returned to its original panic state and she attempted to hide behind one of the massive pillars holding up the roof she was so thankful for. Her back had begun to get damp in seconds but, thanks to her bright pink raincoat, a colour decision she had regretted the second she'd gotten to the park and needed to hide, her jumper was saved a soaking while she hung to the stone pillar.

It was after a curious peek around the corner of the pillar that she found her previous hiding space to have been claimed by kids that looked as desperate and soaking as herself. There was a tall, blonde boy shaking the rain from his hair, a young blonde boy who, while holding himself high and attempting to comfort another sibling, was biting his lip in either frustration or anxiety, and a blonde girl that stuck Nudge as oddly familiar…

The realisation had hit her suddenly. It was Max's sister.

She had slipped around the edge of the pillar, meaning to apologise for hiding and introduce herself, when the eldest blonde lad had turned to face her. His eyes had been the clearest blue and his face looked almost grey in the shadows of the rain and the bandstand. It caused her to stop in her tracks and wait for acknowledgement, but he seemed to ignore her, instead staring through her at the rain beyond.

It was only when young the girl noticed her eldest brother was distracted and turned to see what was so captivating, her heart pounding, hoping it wasn't the man both Fang and her sister were so afraid of, that Nudge finally felt noticed. The young girl had been overwhelmed with joy to see her, it seemed, and even hugged her on the spot, their wet raincoats squishing and squelching under the contact.

"Max asked me to keep an eye out for you," the little girl said with relief in her voice. She pulled away with a smile on her face, Nadia remembered, and the movement of her lips was almost impossible not to mirror coming from such a sweet little girl. "Don't worry," she had said sincerely as a slight frown of responsibility beyond her years covered her face. "We'll look after you."

Now she was sat cross-legged, staring out into the rain as it slowly turned from a downpour into a drizzle. Checking her phone, Nadia noted it had been fifteen minutes since her call to Fang, and still she'd heard nothing back. While she was glad Max's household were safe she now worried about her step-brother and the brave girl that had run after him into the terrible weather.

What if neither of them ever came back?

She started slightly as the eldest brother, Iggy she now knew, knelt down beside her before folding his legs in front of him, staring out into the drizzle with his sightless eyes. Nudge found herself staring at his pale face, the freckles across his nose brought out by the strawberry tones in his hair, scrutinizing him without really meaning to.

He turned his head to face her, his eyes locked onto hers with expert precision, and Nadia felt like she'd been caught taking an extra cookie after dinner for desert. "I have excellent hearing and proprioception," he said, as if answering a question, before turning back to look at the rain. Nudge opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but forgot how to pronounce it, and ended up saying nothing.

The silence seemed to encourage him. "That means I'm highly aware of the location of all given parts of myself at any given time," Iggy expanded, raising an arm above his head as if stretching it before a work-out. "So I have seriously good balance and highly sensitive ears. That second one if how I could 'see' you before Angelica."

_Angelica. The little sister_, she mentally reminded herself as she nodded in understanding. Silence seemed to engulf them for hours as they both stared out into the relentless drizzle. The grey of the sky still played with the boy's skin tone as he tapped long fingers on his knee, as if impatient for something.

Finally, he turned back to her, a smirk on his face. "You nodded, didn't you?"

A flush of red touched Nadia's cheeks, and a hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh my _God_ I'm so sorry! How could I be so stupid? I mean, you guys only told me a few minutes ago that you're blind, and the next moment I'm acting like you can see what I'm doing. You must ha-"

"Nudge!" he exclaimed and nudged her with his elbow, his voice wrapped in a laugh. Nadia was taken slightly aback by the use of her nickname, something only Fang usually did. Beside her Iggy met her eyes with his own again, a smile still plastered across his face, blonde hair stuck to his forehead from the damp. "It's fine, really. Hell even Max occasionally forgets I'm blind. But _now_," he added with emphasis, turning his head back to the dreary park. "Now I understand the nickname."

The mocha girl allowed a light laugh to escape her lips, and it felt good. It had been a while since she'd sincerely laughed with anyone. Everything that had happened in the last few days seemed unreal; as if she had been watching a movie in the park the entire time. If she went home, her Father would be there with a smile and the promise of ice-cream fir breakfast, a tradition for Christmas Eve.

Then she shook her head and closed her eyes, banishing the fantasy for her own sanity.

"This is the police," came a voice from the park, and every head raised in unison to stare into the park. The rain had died to slight drizzle and Nudge could pick out a lean man in a blue and black raincoat wandering between the trees near the swings. "I promise no harm will come to you, kids, please come out. Maxine and Nickolas are worried for your safety."

Nudge stood suddenly Iggy felt her movement and looked up at her. She shook her head and took a step back further into the bandstand. "Nick told me not to go with anyone but him," she whispered as she took another step back, glancing down at Angel. The young girl was looking out at the police officer as he walked blindly through the trees, searching for children he'd been told would be in the playground. "My Father has friends, he might be coming for-"

A small, cold hand touched took a hold of hers, and she looked down into Angelica's calm, friendly face. The young girl pulled Nadia towards the steps, adjusting her hood with her free hand to cover her hair. "It's ok," she said gently, waiting for Nudge to adjust her own hood before leading her into the rain. Behind them, Iggy had a finger in Gasman's belt loop and the young boy warned him softly of the steps coming up.

Some part of Nudge wanted to pull away from the girl. After the revelations she'd had recently, certain paranoia had settled into her brain, and something was niggling that this girl could be leading her into a trap. "How do you know?" She asked quickly, faltering in her step that caused Angelica to pause. The young girl let go of her hand, obviously aware of her alarm and turned to face her.

"Just trust me," she said gently, nodding towards the policeman "I promised I'd look after you, remember?" With that she began running towards the swings, and Nadia found herself following without even thinking. The young girl called out for the policeman and he scooped her up and held her against his chest, his police badge in plain sight on his belt as he turned to face her and the other children.

She would trust her, she realised, smiling at both the officer and Angelica as he placed her upon the floor once more. This family was all she had now.


	64. Lasting Damage

_Oh look, it's an update._**  
**

_By request from one of the only people to comment on the last chapter, this is a Fang POV, though in my usual third person style. The next few chapters might seem a little dull to you, but they are things that need to be addressed for the story to be realistic to me. Since a certain level of realism is required for me, then yeah, here they are._

_Also, this is a very special update. It sees the story cross the 150,000 word mark! Yay! I feel like I've achieved something today._

_Anyway, enjoy. _

* * *

**Chapter 64**

He was aware he should feel relieved at this moment.

His Step-Father was pronounced dead at the scene, something Fang has expected after he became a human speed-bump, and carted off in an ambulance to the morgue. Assuming they were going to do an autopsy to determine cause of death, Fang knew a flutter of concern for both Max and himself should have spread through his gut.

But he felt nothing.

He sat with an arm around Max's freezing shoulders, sharing what little body heat he had with her, and where concern and relief should be resided only blankness. Beside him Max had refused to move until the police had arrived, panicking that no-one would go looking for her soaking, freezing children while she was in hospital. A glance at her face showed her to be filled with emotions; a residue of fear, overwhelming relief, concern for her family. These were the things he should have been feeling, but instead he felt numb.

The paramedics did the best they could for Max's wounds while they waited for the police. The rain died to nothing, leaving an overcast sky that shrouded the street in grey. Beyond their bubble of drama the world continued on – shoppers still sped past to the mall to finish their Christmas preparations and the occasional pedestrian ambled past with a folded brolly, some even pausing to look at the pair of teens huddled on the pavement.

All the while Fang shrugged off medical attention. Max needed it more than he.

Finally, after the paramedics had cleaned up the nasty wound on Max's leg and moved to the one on her cheek, a police car arrived at the scene. The two officers who stepped out of the patrol car seemed much more interested in learning about what had transpired there that morning than finding the soaking wet children in the park, separating the teens from one another to ask them questions, notebooks flipped open and pens in hand, a practiced concern on their faces.

Behind him, Fang could hear Max repeatedly telling the policeman who had chosen her to question where her kids were. A paramedic was badgering the man to go and find them, so they could get their patient to the hospital and treat her leg, which would need to have all the gravel removed from the wound, fresh bandages and maybe a few stitches. The policeman seemed adamant that he was going to get his questions answered first and Fang felt sorry for him, knowing Max's stubbornness.

When he turned his attention back to his own officer, he noticed annoyance on the man's face. "Master Mustofa," he stated curtly, his pen hovering over the note pad. "Please pay attention. We need to answer these questions before you can be taken to the hospital. It's important for our investigation."

Fang stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It's Arnold," he corrected the man, fixing him with a steady gaze. The policeman drew his eyebrows together before flipping to a new sheet of paper on his pad, leaving the other attached but folded back. "Nickolas Arnold. He was my Step-Father. I never took his name."

"I see," the policeman said as he scrawled down this information. Waiting for him to continue, Fang studied the man's uniform. He wore dark blue pants and a matching shirt, long-sleeved shirt with a black tie, over which was a black body-warmer with numerous pockets. He had a radio attached to his belt, but it seemed to be switched off, as well as both a small pistol and a baton. Barely visible below the body-warmer was his badge, and an ID card stating 'Sergeant Samuels'.

Samuels finally looked back up. "So what happened here today, Nickolas?" His tone was calm and friendly, but he could tell it was practiced, as a teacher may have such a voice for her classroom. He found himself shrugging before he could stop himself, and Samuels raised an eyebrow.

"It's complicated," he replied, his eyes not leaving that of the officer. He was not guilty of anything other than self-defence, and therefore would not act so. Something in his mind told him he should drop his eyes and respect the authority of the man before him, but such an act could be interpreted as guilt later, so he forced himself to keep his gaze steady as he continued: "I was protecting myself and my girlfriend."

The Sergeant looked past Nickolas to gaze that the girl, who was still sat on the floor, her damaged leg out awkwardly in front of her. The officer she was dealing with seemed to give up asking his questions and slip his notepad away. With a nod to Samuels, he turned and strode back towards the patrol car, his agitation clear in the length of his stride.

He looked back at Nick once more. "Stubborn girl, I see." The teenager nodded once in agreement, looking over his shoulder to see the paramedics helping Max towards the ambulance. One of them paused and motioned for Nickolas to follow them as his co-workers helped the girl into the vehicle. He heard the policeman behind him sigh and turned back to face Samuels.

"We'll finish this at the hospital," he said in a tone that lacked his practiced kindness, obviously annoyed that his work wasn't yet completed. He tucked his notebook and pen into one of the many pockets of his body-warmer and motioned for Nick to head for the ambulance. "Once you've been patched up, come find me in the emergency waiting room." With that, he jogged towards the patrol car that was just pulling away, hopped into the passenger seat and disappeared into the traffic.

Fang took slow, measured steps towards the ambulance, his body finally running out of adrenaline. The aches and pains from his recent exertions finally caught up with his consciousness. One of the paramedics helped him into the back of the vehicle and he found he felt a little faint, and very tired, but could not put a finger on an emotion to match his physical state.

The hospital was not far away, so the ambulance crew only managed a preliminary check of his injuries during transit. All considered, he'd come out of the fight quite well. He had a bruised jaw that hurt when he spoke, some red marks around his neck from Mike's tight grasp that were turning a pleasant shade of purple and minor cuts and bruising on his hands, arms and legs. His right foot also ached from catching Mike in the jaw, but since he could walk it was deemed not broken and an x-ray unnecessary. There was also a small cut on the back of his head, but it had already stopped bleeding.

On the other hand, Max's leg had been ripped open and her flesh was peppered with gravel and dirt. Her little shorts and camisole had failed to protect her from her slide along the ground and her arms and hands were also peppered with tiny stones, though the cuts much less severe. Her cheek looked like it had been burned and numerous bits of gravel were stuck in the wound there too, and a small section of her hair had become matted with blood.

But she didn't seem to care – she looked relieved.

When they pulled up in the emergency bay, Max was hurried out of the ambulance and into the hospital, two of the three paramedics attending her stretcher. They had stated their worry of infection of her wounds and were hoping to hurry her through the system. One paramedic stayed behind with Fang to walk him into the waiting room, where he was given a number and seated with other less pressing cases.

Surrounded by the sick and injured, he quickly bored of staring at the wall. When the next number to be called was seventeen from his own, he pushed himself up from the uncomfortable plastic chair that would surely cripple his back if he remained there for too long and took a step outside into the cool, crisp air.

Clouds still smothered the sky, letting only the occasional streak of sunlight through to lighten the Earth below. Fang allowed himself a few minutes to breathe in the scent of a freshly watered world, the smell of fresh rain always something he enjoyed, before pulling out his phone and attempting to call his Mum.

While it was ringing, he stared at the inflatable Santa the staff had secured to the front of the building. At least twice his own height and half the width of a car, it was impossible to miss the jolly man, his hand held in frozen gesture accentuating the smile on his plastic face. The call went through to answerphone and Fang disconnected, unable to put the events of the last few days into a few minutes on a recording.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his eyes still on the inflatable Santa. The massive balloon swayed in the slight breeze, water dripping from the infinitely happy man's nose and the arm by his side. The sight of this symbol of Christmas, frozen in such joy, made Fang realise something he didn't really want to acknowledge.

Despite everything that had happened, he still couldn't muster any appropriate emotions; fear, anger, relief, concern.

Feeling disconnected and unsure, he simply disregarded the realisation and went back inside, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs. Three numbers had been called while he was outside, which he found encouraging, and he allowed himself to disengage from his own thoughts and stare off into space until his number was called, unwilling to dwell on thoughts he found himself slightly afraid of.

The nurse he saw was very efficient at her job. She checked over all of his wounds, had the ones that needed attention patched up and painkillers for his aches and pains in his hand in less than ten minutes. She also seemed to be concerned for his lack of response to questions related to his injuries. He hadn't really felt anything since that feeling of surprise when Mike had been run over, and did not feel any relief when asked how he felt by this nurse.

All he could muster was a shrug. A simple, meaningless shrug.

When the woman was finished, she would not let him leave. Instead of being given another number he was referred straight to a doctor currently doing rounds on the ward. Nick found himself sat outside a consultation room for twenty minutes before the man returned to his office, and then he was invited inside and offered a seat on an examination table.

He hoisted himself up onto the table and let his feet dangle, hearing the paper covering rustle beneath him. The room was much like an ordinary doctor's room, with some books lining the walls and various pieces of equipment about the room Fang could not identify. The doctor pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, a slight smile on his lips that was the complete opposite of the demeanour of the policemen; it was sincere and heart-felt.

He introduced himself as Doctor Jeston. He told Nick that he usually worked in a practice within the town, but did days in the emergency department as well. He had a gentle discussion with the boy about his own family, before turning the conversation to the recent events of the teen. He asked about Mike; the man's personality, his general lifestyle, and what he had done to Nick and his Mother over the last few months. He also asked him to recall any incidents that he felt the hospital should know about, in case the police decided to turn the man's death into an investigation, as well as why they ran away and how Mike reacted when he had found Nick that morning.

While Fang was able to answer the questions put to him, he found it very difficult to engage himself in the memories and emotions he was describing. He knew he had felt fear and hatred at the times of Mike's abuse, but he couldn't seem to associate with the emotions while he was describing them. He felt as if he were in a little bubble, separate from those past events.

After half an hour of discussion, Doctor Jeston sat back in his chair, his face now set in a slight frown. Fang could read the sympathy in his face before he even spoke, the man's emotions written in both his features and his posture.

"I think you may be suffering from Posttraumatic stress disorder," he said in a gentle tone. With nothing to say coming to mind, Fang instead knotted his eyebrows together, to which the doctor continued: "It's common after traumatic events, but it can also be caused by physical and psychological abuse or the abrupt end of such treatment." He studied the lad's face, reading the understanding crossing Fang's features.

With the teen still silent, Doctor Jeston rose from his chair and walked across the room. Fang followed him with his eyes to his desk, where he extracted a pamphlet from one of the drawers and returned with it. He didn't sit back down, but instead held the leaflet out to the teen, who took it after a slight hesitation.

The doctor lent a hand on the back of his chair. "We can offer you counselling, if you feel you need it." Before him, Fang studied the paper without a word, noticing the similarities between his own feelings and the symptoms listed on the front. "Some people can work though it themselves, but we recommend seeing a psychiatrist to deal with any questions or concerns you may have."

Nick looked up, and offered the man a slight smile. "Thank you," he said, and the doctor simply smiled back, turning to take his chair back to his desk. The teen slid from the examination table and slipped the pamphlet into his pocket. The doctor held the door open for him to exit, and escorted him back to the emergency waiting room, leaving him there with good wishes for his recovery.

With that done and the leaflet safely folded away, Fang was about to head into the emergency ward to find Max when he noticed Sergeant Samuels stand from one of the uncomfortable seats and motion for the teen to follow him outside. With a slight sigh, he slipped his hands back into his pockets and headed for the main doors.

It was going to be a long day.


	65. A Mother's Confessions

_So, one of the reviewers is psychic, because they saw this one coming. Creepy._**  
**

_Wow, look at that, another update. That's two days in a row! No where near my record, but it's the most I've written consecutively in years, so you are lucky, lucky readers this week. _

_T'is a short, sad one though. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 65**

Her pen suspended over the paper, Nancy sat at the little desk in her hotel room, waiting for the words to come to her. She knew exactly what she wanted to write; her feelings, her hopes an fears, her love for her son, but none of the words would flow from the tip of her pen as she sat there, the white of the paper marred by three words only:

_My Dearest Nickolas,_

She put the pen down and slowly rubbed her eyes with her palms, exhaustion niggling at the edge of her consciousness. It had been months since she'd had a good night's sleep, and the past week since running away she had been plagued with nightmares. Despite being half the country away, Mike still managed to ruin her dreams and sink fear into her heart.

Pushing her chair away from the desk, Nancy stood and stepped over to the window, slipping back a section of the curtains to look out onto the streets of Miami, Florida. It was just getting light and the sun had already begun to warm the streets to a gentle heat. Some elderly early-risers already pottered down the streets towards social clubs, drinking dens, slot machines and occasionally towards a sweetheart.

It was Christmas Eve, and life was carrying on regardless of her own plight.

She let the curtain fall back into place and turned back to the orange hue of her hotel room. It had been the cheapest one in town - the only one she could afford on the last of her emergency money. She'd already seen a few roaches and was sure the bed was filled with tiny bedbugs, not that she'd even laid on the thin mattress.

No. She couldn't sleep. Not tonight.

She paced back towards the table with slow, measured steps, a hand up to her mouth in worry. Nancy still chastised herself every day for leaving her son with that monster. She had been so frightened at the time nothing but escaping has been able to access her consciousness. Before she even knew what she was doing she'd packed a bag, walked to town to withdraw the few funds she had left from her job before remarriage, and started walking.

Hitchhiking across the country was not an easy task. She'd stood for hours at the side of a highway with her case, terrified that Mike would come looking for her. If he'd pulled up beside her, she was frightened she would get into the car without a second thought, and allowed him to take her back to her hell without even a kick or a scream.

Finally a truck driver had pulled over into the layby, originally just looking for somewhere to rest his eyes. He was a long-haul driver headed for Tennessee and, after listening to her story, agreed without any protest to let her go with him. He helped her with her bags and for the next day and a half they travelled or slept in silence, nothing but the radio breaking the air between them.

When they reached Tennessee Nancy didn't plan to travel out further, but the truck driver had called a friend and arranged for him to take her to Miami. He explained that he wanted to help her get as far away from her old life as possible, that his friend was happy to help, and he would give her a ride to his location.

She thanked him whole-heartedly, but he wouldn't accept any of her money. Instead he let her buy them both breakfast at the café they planned to meet the next truck driver at, and finally they spoke. They had a brief conversation about each other's lives, and Nancy found she unconsciously let out the fact she had left her son at the mercy of such a man when she left.

Guilt. Her stomach burnt with guilt.

It was another day before they reached Miami. Another day of silence dispelled only by the cracking radio. This second truck driver had allowed her to buy him some beer as a thank you, of which he thankfully didn't touch while she was travelling with him, but she was sure she saw him crack one open before he pulled away and left her on the streets of Miami.

With only $600 in her pocket and the nearest hotel costing $120 a night, her heart was already sinking into her shoes as she handed over the money. It was late and she was hungry and tired, but ignoring her stomach to preserve her money she had retired to bed to dreams plagued by Mike's face and the horrible things he had done and could do to her and her son.

Now here she was four days later with no money to her name. She had no food on her, had failed to find even a minor job and hadn't slept for more than a few hours a night for almost a week. She had spent her last $3 on a stamp and a candy bar, the only thing she could afford with the change, the evening before. The paper she had was in the little drawer in the desk in her room, and she'd managed to convince the woman on the reception desk to give her an envelope.

All she had to do was write the letter. But she couldn't string the words together.

Sitting back down at the desk, Nancy scooted her chair forwards slightly and ran a hand through her unwashed hair, once again staring at the blank paper before her. Her right hand plucked the pen from the table and she held it poised once more, hoping the words would come more freely in this position. She sat like that for almost an hour until, finally, words began to flow.

* * *

_My Dearest Nickolas,_

_I only ever wanted the best for the both of us. When I remarried, I thought a new start with a new man, so far away from the mistakes of our pasts, would be a wonderful thing. Mike was such a nice man when he was courting me. He seemed like a dream come true. I now know if something seems too good to be true, you should walk away from it before someone gets hurt._

_Please understand how much I love you. I'm sorry if, in the past, I have come across as resentful or even having a hatred of your presence. You must understand that you look so much like your Father, my very first mistake, that sometimes it was hard to bear to see his face._

_You've made me proud, Nickolas. You are nothing like your Father. You have a gentle heart and care for those around you; you treated Nadia as if she were your own sister, and the love and affection I saw you bestow on both Brigid and Maxine was much more than he ever showed me. I'm so happy you finally found a girl who appreciates you. She's a keeper._

_I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted._

_Something has happened, and I can't come home. Please know I never wanted any of this to happen. I love you more than words can describe; you are my only child, my flesh and blood, and I'm so sorry I had to leave you with that man. It is my dearest hope you got out of the house, as I requested, and have found somewhere safe to stay._

_Look after your step-sister. It's only a matter of time before she gets the sharp end of Mike's temper. Look out for her as you have for me, in the way you have already that makes me so proud of you. _

_Love you always,_

_Your Mother._

* * *

Placing the pen down, Nancy sucked in a deep breath and wiped a few stray tears from the corners of her eyes. She sniffed once before folding the paper in quarters and tucking it into the little envelope, sticking the stamp on the top-right corner. She then placed it on the table and filled in their last home address up north before standing from her chair once more.

A sense of peace filled Nancy's consciousness as she showered and dressed in the best clothes she'd brought with her: a suit with a pencil-cut skirt and a bright white blouse with ruffles near the neck. She had been using these for the few job interviews she'd managed to secure, but now it felt right to wear them, to go out with pride in the best clothes she possessed.

Tucking the letter into her blazer pocket, Nancy picked up her hand bag, turned on her two-inch heels and strode out of the hotel room as if she were heading for a high-class job in the business district. She held her head high as she clacked down the pavement in her classy, black heels, a slight smile on her face in the warm, rather refreshing air.

There was a post box just down the street. She paused to feed the letter to her son into its mouth, and hesitated to hear it fall onto the other letters below. With that she continued on her way, her mind clear of inhibition and fear for the first time in months.

It was a nice day to jump from Miami Bridge.


	66. Reunions and Revelations

_Seriously, I must be on some kind of drug. Maybe caffeine. I have been drinking a lot of caffeine recently. This could be the only explanation for the number of updates you have received this week._

_Or maybe it's the wonderful reviews I keep receiving._

_Honestly. I have no words to describe how amazing it makes me feel to read these reviews. I never thought this story would even get this long, let alone have such a following, or even get such blindingly wonderful reviews. I haven't replied to any of them because I am at a loss to what to say to people who offer me such high praise. Since "Lol thanks" really doesn't cover the amount of love I am feeling, and this seems to be driving my desire to write more for you._

_Thank you so much for those reviews._

_Also, there was a comment that this fic has gotten dark in recent chapters. Well, the last ten or so, really. I promise this fic will pick up, starting from this chapter, but there are still certain things I have to cover that cause both angst and drama. I'll be sure to punctuate it with harmless FAX fluff and things, though. Just to lighten the mood a little._

_Enjoy. x_

* * *

**Chapter 66**

It had taken two minutes to secure her a bed, and since then Max had not been left alone for more than thirty seconds. A female nurse had been assigned to remove the teenager's soaking shorts from her legs while Max peeled off her camisole, both so wet they were like a second skin to her small frame. Her shorts had to be cut away to prevent them agitating her wounded leg, and for a short moment Max found herself covering her body with just her hands.

It was horribly embarrassing. _At least Fang isn't here_.

The nurse returned with a hospital nightie, as well as a clean pair of knickers another nurse had donated. The teen was forever thankful that the dress had a back and with the help of the nurse, carefully pulled the knickers up her legs to maintain a little more of her dignity.

As soon as she was back on the bed, another nurse and a doctor were in her cubicle, pulling the curtains closed behind them. The bandages the ambulance crew had wrapped around her leg were soaked with fluids; a little blood and a lot of weeping from the wound. They were almost as glued to her body as her night clothes had been, only the closer you got the wound the bandages went from a white to a dark yellow colour and it stung to pull them from her flesh.

The doctor tutted as he removed the last of the bandages, throwing them in the bin beside Max's bed. He explained that her body was trying to heal the wound, and as such was flooding the area with white blood cells and platelets. That was what caused the yellow pus, the smell of which made the teen's toes curl. He then reached for a trolley of instruments and picked out a small pair of tweezers, and explained what he was going to do.

It took the next hour to remove all of the gravel from her leg. They had to clean the wound with antiseptic and tissue beforehand, to which Max had bitten her lip and screwed her eyes up against the stinging, and then the tedious part began. Each piece of gravel removed sent a small twinge of pain down Max's leg. Some of the pieces were so embedded in her muscle that someone had to hold her leg still to remove them, since it would twitch out of Max's control from the pain.

They removed over three hundred pieces of gravel.

Once this was done, the nurse treated the wound with antiseptic once again. Max bit her lip so hard she caused it to bleed. But finally, the worst of it was over. Her leg was wrapped in clean bandages and she was given painkillers for the dull ache that had settled into her leg muscles, which she took gratefully.

Next, they treated the minor grazes on her face, hands and arms. The skin damage here was much more superficial and the gravel could be removed without too much discomfort. As the painkillers began to take effect, Max stopped noticing the tweezers altogether and she could feel herself becoming drowsy. By the time they had dressed the very last of her wounds she had slipped into a medicated sleep. The medical staff emptied the bin by the side of her bed and left quietly, their job completed.

oOoOo

The accident and emergency waiting room branched off of the main hospital entrance, within which was a smaller waiting room for hospital visitors such as health inspectors and other medical personnel. Stepping into the room, Fang was glad to see Samuels choose one of these plastic seats rather than heading back outside.

At least he had _some_ sense.

The seats were arranged into two rows that faced each other, between which there was a small gap for you to walk through. Taking the seat opposite the policeman, Fang slouched in his chair, taking up a large proportion of the gap without much effort. He rested his hands on his stomach and watched Samuels take out his pen and notepad, flipping to the page with the boy's name already written at the top.

Waiting for the questions to start, the teen tilted his head back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reflecting on the events of that morning. There was still an emptiness where emotion should be and it disturbed him slightly. The doctor he'd seen was probably right; even if it wasn't depression, there was something wrong with him. Despite his emotional detachment related to Mike's death or his abuse, the sense of nothing was possibly as enjoyable as feeling relief. He felt more relaxed than he had in months simply by not engaging with those emotions.

Abuse. He realised he's never called what Mike had subjected him and his mother to as abuse before. It was a realisation so surprising he opened his eyes with a start and creased his brows. Had it really been abuse, or was he just making it into something this policeman would take pity on him for, to relieve the possibly bad outcomes of this situation?

_No,_ he interrupted the thoughts. He had to accept it. _It was abuse._

Samuels cleared his throat, and Fang raised his head to look at the man. He already had his pen and notepad in hand, his eyes down on the page rather than the teenager. "I need you to tell me what happened this morning, Nickolas." He stated, waiting through almost thirty seconds of silence before glancing up at the teen, his pen poised over his notebook. "Do you want me to ask you questions, or would you rather relay the events to me in your own words?"

Fang took a few seconds to consider this, then grabbed the arms of his plastic chair and pulled himself upright. He leant forwards and rested his elbows on his knees, arms flat against his thighs, and ignored the lock of bangs that tried to obscure his vision as he set the policeman with a pointed gaze.

"I hope you have a lot of paper left."

oOoOo

Flipping back through the pages of his notepad, the policeman took a deep breath before closing it with both hands. He tucked the pen into the coiled spine of the book and rested it in his lap before looking up at the teen before him, who had not moved the for the last half an hour as he explained what had happened to himself, his mother and his step-sister over the last few months.

"Well," the man said as he finally found his voice. "I'll need clarification of these facts, you understand." The teen nodded once and finally sat back in his seat, his eyes still on the officer. "Can you give me the names of any witnesses or contacts I can use to verify your story?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice he recognised. From the doorway came the words, in a slightly annoyed tone: "I'm blind, not dumb. I think I can recognise the sound of a door opening." Blinking, Fang held a digit up to the officer to indicate he needed a minute, then swivelled in his chair to face the entrance.

A smile crept onto his face before he could help it. Iggy pulled his arm from that of the other police officer and strode down the hall by himself, with Gary jogging to catch up with him as they headed for the seats. Behind them, Angel was holding the slightly confused looking policeman's hand as they headed into the foyer and, walking very slightly behind them was Nadia, looking nervous and unsettled.

Then she noticed him, and let out a squeal of happiness. In the time it took Fang to get from his seat and step out from between the rows, Nadia had cleared the length of the entrance hall and had flung herself at him. She hit his chest, and Fang staggered very slightly from the impact, the wounds from this morning aching, but he ignored the pain and wrapped his arms around his little sister, holding her tight.

She was safe. That was all that mattered.

There was a pattering of feet on the shiny floor and then Fang found himself with a smaller pair of arms slipping under Nadia's grasp and holding him tight. Looking down, he saw the smiling face of Angel glowing with relief, and he took an arm from his sister to wrap it around the girl who may as well be related to him by blood.

Behind him, Samuels stood and tucked his notepad away, obviously aware this was not a good time to continue his questioning. He did, however, have a goofy smile on his face at the reunion in front of him. Nickolas let go of both girls and kneel down to give the little boy with fluffy blonde hair a quick squeeze, ruffling the lad's hair affectionately when he stood up. He then shared a fist-bump with the older blonde lad before kneeling down to pick up the youngest girl and hold her in his arms.

Angel frowned and ran her small fingers over the bruise on Nick's jaw. He flinched slightly as her cool skin touched the sensitive spot, but kept a genuine smile on his face, this happiness the first real emotion to enter his brain since Mike's death. "What happened to your face?" She asked him, turning her concerned features to his own.

The teen shook his head slightly. "It doesn't matter," he said gently. He turned his gaze to Nadia, who had a shadow of fear playing across her otherwise happy face. It had only been this morning she had experienced her Father's true personality first-hand, and she looked shaken. He supported Angel's tiny frame with one arm and offered Nadia a hug with the other, which she gratefully accepted.

"It doesn't matter," he repeated, holding his younger sisters tight. "It's over."


	67. Another Hiccup

_Hullo._

_So here's another update. The words are just streaming out this week. And I did four shifts at work around the writing. I'm so proud of myself._

_Also, for the guest reviewer who made some points about the last chapter. The parts you commented on were based on experience; I came off on some gravel on holiday in France that lead to some being embedded in the wound. The removal of some of it did hurt to the extent where my leg would jerk, and they had to hold it down, and I didn't get any pain medication until afterwards. Mine was not as bad as Max's supposed injury, admittedly, but yeah, still based off a personal experience. _

_Maybe the French are just mean._

_So, here's another update. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 67**

"I don't want to stay here," Nadia whispered to her Step-Brother, aware the policemen were standing close-by and probably straining to hear their conversation. They had been trying to talk to her about her Father for the last hour, but just the mention of him brought tears to her eyes, and she wanted to lock herself in the ladies and hide from them rather than answer their questions.

Beside her, Fang took her hand in his and lightly rubbed the back, as he had seen Max do with her Father. It seemed to soothe the mocha girl just a little, and he felt her relax slightly in the plastic chair beside him. "You're going to have to answer their questions sooner or later," he said gently, turning to look at her. Tears were already pricking at the edge of her eyes. "The sooner you do it, the faster it will be over with."

She glanced over at the officers, then back at her brother. "Can't you stay with me?"

Considering she acted older than she was, it was normally easy to forget Nadia was no more than twelve years old. But now, when she had lost her Father, it didn't matter how he had treated her towards the end. She was now an orphan; a minor out in the world on her own, and she needed someone to hold on to.

It tore Fang's heart out he couldn't be her rock this time. "They need to hear your side of the story, without me present. If I'm there they might think I'm pressuring you to comply with my story." He got to his feet without letting go of her hand, turning to face her and holding out his other hand for hers. "Just tell them the truth, Nadia." He added, taking her other hand and pulling her to her feet into a hug.

Nadia enjoyed the warmth of his hug for as long as he would let her. She wanted to stay there, in that cocoon of safety and love, but Nick pulled away after a minute or so. She gazed up at the big brother fate had given her, mustered the best smile she could and nodded once. It sent a flutter of warmth through her when he mimicked her smile. "I'll bring you your favourite dress and leggings," he said as he turned to leave, offering her a wave she mirrored. "We'll be back soon."

She watched as the only family she possessed left of the hospital without her. Inquiring after Max had led to the knowledge that they would not be able to see her for another three or four hours; they were waiting for a particular doctor to come and stitch up the gash on the outside of her calf. Until then, she was to be left to rest, meaning no visitors were permitted, which had upset her family and annoyed Nickolas.

They just wanted to check she was ok.

After stewing for a while, Nick had decided that the best thing to do would be to get everyone into a change of clothes. The kids were still in their pyjamas, covered only by waterproof coats. Nudge's clothes were damp and muddy, Nick's were still rather wet and Max had only been wearing her skimpy camisole and shorts. By this point the police had been pressing for more information from Nadia about her Father for almost an hour, and now she was nervous.

As one of the officers approached her, she wondered how much she should tell him. Would he be interested in learning about the possibility of the dead man murdering her Mother, or would they solely be interested in the events of this morning? It would certainly help Nick's case if the man was seen to have a criminal past, but with only memories unlocked from a psychiatrist, she knew from watch TV shows that such memories were often disregarded as 'planted' or 'fake'.

The policeman was the one Nick had been speaking to when they entered, a Sergeant Samuels. He seemed friendly enough as he smiled down at Nadia and motioned for her to take a seat on the plastic chairs behind her. His sandy blonde hair was cut short and his blue uniform smelled of fresh rain.

When she had, he took the seat opposite her and removed a small notebook from the front pocket of his body-warmer. It must have been waterproof, Nadia noted, as the pages were still crisp and dry despite the dampness of his own clothes. She fidgeted uncomfortably in the plastic seat and placed her hands in her lap, knees together and back straight.

She would tell him everything, she decided. Every detail she knew.

oOoOo

Considering he had no clothes to change into at Max's house, Nick slumped onto the sofa while the kids went and changed, flipping through the mail they had received that morning. It would be the last mail they would get til the New Year, or may as well be with how clogged up the postal system became at Christmas time. Most of it seemed to be bill reminders and the occasional piece of junk mail, but his hand paused on an envelope near the back of the pile.

An ominous brown envelope stared back at him. A white rectangle revealed the letter within, addressed to a Miss M. Martinez. Just visible, on the top left hand corner of the paper, were the initial YCA printed in thick black capitals.

He knew it was not his business to open, but a flutter of disquiet was already starting in his stomach. Fang discarded the other letters and turned the little brown envelope over in his hands, as if touching the object could project to him what was inside. When this failed, he finally gave in to curiosity and slipped a thumb under the corner of the seal to pop it open.

* * *

_Dear Miss M Martinez,_

_It has come to our attention that there has been a change of circumstance within your household, and as such we will need to amend our records regarding the state of your parents and their disabilities. Please do not hesitate to inform us of the changes, as you may be over or under paid for your care depending on these new circumstances._

_If your circumstances have changed, please call the number below between the hours of 8am and 8pm, Monday to Friday, where a representative will be happy to guide you through the process. Note that the phone line will close on December 23__rd__ and will not reopen until January 2__nd__. _

_Kind regards,_

_Synthia Applestein_

_Chairman of the YCA_

* * *

Nick found himself staring at the letter with his eyes unfocused. The Young Carer's Association had been notified of her Father's death. He fingered the letter, letting it crackle in his hands at the torment, his mind working in overdrive.

The YCA dealt with children who were forced to look after adults due to disability possessed in their parents or both parent and offspring. It had to be something that affected their quality of life and as such their ability to look after themselves. Now her Father had passed away, that left only Iggy as a disabled person within their household, and he was also a minor.

There was no longer a parental presence in the house, disabled or not.

Unsure whether they would allow Max to continue to look after her family, Fang felt a little sick inside as he folded the letter back up with more care than required. As far as he could tell there were only two real options for the TCA to take; cut her funding to looking after one disabled sibling only, or…

Nick shook his head and slipped the letter back into the envelope, turning it back to look at Max's name through the window once again. After everything she had done for him, and for her family, she didn't deserve any of the worry or uncertainty the YCA were about to thrust upon her. He planned to hide it until the New Year, but a glance about the room but could find no-where to stow the letter. Eventually he stood and tucked it into his pants pocket, hearing the patter of feet on the stairs as the kids returned from changing.

He couldn't let anything ruin Max's Christmas.


	68. Nadia's Resilience

_Obviously, I know I promised happy chapters, but there is a backlog of emotional bits I need to do first, and this is one of them. It's necessary for the character development of both Nadia and Nick to go through these steps, as well as the necessary plot development as well._

_Enjoy. x_

**Chapter 68**

Since they needed to find Max a change of clothes and stop off at Mike's house, it was almost three hours before they returned to the hospital. Both the policeman and Nadia were nowhere in sight, but they found the latter behind the emergency nurses' station with a dispenser-machine hot chocolate cupped between both hands. She offered them a smile, but Nick could see the tear-lines on her cheeks, only now beginning to dry on her skin, as she sipped the hot beverage with care.

Turns out the policemen had left a little over ten minutes ago. During the two hours they were talking to her, Nadia told them things even Nick was unaware of; her mother's apparent suicide, her memories and suspicions of both her, her shrink and that of the police that had been involved with the case. She told them about Nick's glass wound on his back, the bruises Nancy would sometimes gain she claimed to have gotten from walking into a door, and of her Father's anger and threats that morning.

She poured her heart out to them, and tears flowed freely afterwards.

Surprisingly, Sergeant Samuels had refused to leave until the girl's step-brother had returned from getting her clean clothes, despite the protesting of his partner. It was only when a further half-hour had elapsed that he finally conceded and handed Nadia, still weeping occasionally from memories, to the on-call nurses of the emergency department.

The two women had fussed over her, getting her tissues and hot chocolate, trying to calm her down as they tag-teamed the cases in the waiting room. Nadia had expressed their need over her own, but the women had refused to leave her entirely, trying to cheer her up and keep her company until her big brother returned.

Nick recognised the nurse currently sat with his sister. She had been the one treating his wounds when he came in what seemed a lifetime ago now, when he and Max had been surprised on the way home. He had a flashback of being ripped from the top of the wire fence, the metal tearing into his thigh, and the stitches it needed once he got to the hospital.

Max probably saved his life that day.

The nurse seemed to recognise him too. When she stood up, she smiled warmly at him and enquired after his wounds. Nick suspected she was too familiar with his medical history now the police had been snooping around; all of the incidents with Mike that had led to needing hospital treatment fresh in her mind.

But if they were, she showed no pity in her gaze. She stepped around Nadia to exit the nurses' station, picking up a pen and a clipboard on her way that she held out to him with a polite smile. He mirrored the smile, rested the bag he was carrying on the floor to take both objects, scanning the paper. It was a patient information form, the name filled in as 'Miss Maxine Valencia Martinez', with spaces for her health insurance number and a few other details.

"I wasn't sure who to give this to," the nurse stated, slipping her hands into the pocket on the front of her pinafore. Nick nodded once as he scanned the page, realising he didn't even know if Max had health insurance. "I tried calling home about a half hour ago, but no-one picked up. Your sister told me to give it to you."

Behind him, Iggy shuffled his feet. He was still uncomfortable in hospitals since his Father's passing. "She doesn't have health insurance. How much is this likely to cost?"

The nurse turned her attention to the blonde lad, maybe an inch taller than Nick himself. It was then Nick noticed her identity tag clipped to the front of her pinafore. "She should be released this afternoon," replied Nurse Dienna, wasting a reassuring smile on the blind lad. "With a bed for the afternoon, the stitches and a few dressings, you're probably looking at least a few hundred dollars"

Nick felt himself exhale a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That's fine," he said, scanning the rest of the form. He was confident he could fill in everything except her birthday, but considering they'd been gone three hours, he could ask her that soon enough. He slipped the pen under the clip and dropped the clipboard to his side. "How is she?"

The nurse motioned to one of the corridors the nurses' station flanked. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" Dienna added with a smile, dropping her arm to her side and stepping back behind the nurses' station to check another clipboard. She ran a finger down a list, pausing when she came to 'Martinez, Maxine' and looking up. "She's in cubical 14b; go to the end of the corridor and turn right, third bed on your left."

"Thank you," Nick smiled at the woman, not knowing what else to say. He motioned to Angel to go on ahead, who rounded up both of her brothers and started down the corridor, each of the younger kids holding one of Iggy's hands as they navigated the busy network of beds and doctors.

Once they were out of sight, he turned his attention to Nadia. He crossed his arms and leant on the front of the nurses' station, catching her eyes when she looked up from her hot chocolate. "What about you?" His question was soft, his quiet voice almost lost in the general bustle of the ward beside them. "How are you feeling?"

The mocha girl shrugged, gazing down at the brown liquid in her cup, slowly turning it in her hands. After her session with the policemen she barely had any emotions left to express; she felt like she'd cried every tear in her body, and it had left her exhausted. More than anything, she just wanted to go home and sleep the rest of the day away, and pretend it had all been a dream.

But of course, when she awoke, her Father would still be gone.

Nick leant down and picked up the carrier bag at his feet, resting it on the nurses' station to extract a white, woollen dress, a pale pink thin jumper and a matching pair of leggings. He even remembered to bring her shoes; he'd chosen her white trainers with pale pink stripes along the edges, knowing how much she liked everything to match.

Taking the hot chocolate from her, he placed the pile of clothes in her now empty arms, balancing the shoes on top as best he could. Nadia attempted a smile for him, but it was weak and tired, and fell from her face as she pulled herself to her feet. She moved to head to the ladies room with her head down, but her brother caught her shoulder before she made it very far, turning her back to face him, to look into her eyes.

As he knelt down before her, Nick realised how peculiar this whole thing felt. His reaction to the events of the morning was to lock away all of his excess emotions, to exile them to the back of his mind and pretend they didn't exist, pushing him into a depression of sorts. With Nadia, it had jumbled all of her emotions to the fore and he could tell expressing them all had exhausted her. Her eyes were still bloodshot from crying, and dark circles had formed under her eyes since his last real contact with her before she ran away from home.

Both of them were broken, he realised. But they had broken so differently.

He was many inches shorter than Nadia's lanky frame on his knees. He angled his head up and took a hold of her biceps with a gentle firmness, catching her eyes in his own. He wondered if his detachment from the situation was as obvious in his eyes as the overflow of emotions was in hers, but he attempted a reassuring smile, tightening his grip on her arms just slightly.

"We're going to be ok," he stated softly. A small smile flickered onto the adolescent's face before him, but it was just a flicker, drowned by sorrow moments later. "I promise," he said in a slightly louder voice, a firmness catching the tone as he stated what he believed. "I promise we'll be alright."

Nadia whispered something in return, what he thought was a simple 'Ok', and then when she turned he applied no resistance. He let her arms slip between his fingers, remaining on his knees as he watched the frail girl walk down the hallway. Her step was slow but steady, and she looked back once at her brother before pushing open the ladies' room door and leaving his view.

He remained there, on his knees, as the seconds ticked past. His arms dropped to his sides and he sat back on his legs, his eyes never leaving the bathroom door. There had been a haunted look in his sister's eyes as she entered the bathroom; a fear of something or someone he could not place, and he realised he was out of his depth with his sister, as much as he was out of his depth contemplating the mental turmoil he had received from this incident.

He felt defeated. _Reassurances are only going to go so far, Mr. Arnold_. It was something he did not want to admit, but Nadia was going to have to continue to visit her therapist, if they could find the money. He too was going to have to contact the one on the card burning a hole in his pocket. He wondered if leaving Mike alive would have caused less emotional damage to those involved than his death.

_Why did I call myself Mr. Arnold?_ The thought crossed his mild a few moments later, and only then did he realise he'd been lost within his own thoughts. "Mr. Arnold?" There was his name again, only this time voice belonged to Dienna, not his head. He tilted his body to look back at the nurse, who was beaconing him back to the nurses' station, an emotion Nick could not place contorting her face.

He took one last look at the restroom door before pulling himself to his feet, turning on the spot and closing the distance between him and Dienna. She was stood behind the nurses' station with a slither of paper in her hand, folded multiple times as if in anxiety. It was this she held out to him this time when he got close.

She looked upset, her emotions had become attached to the situation, and at first she apologised before she would explain the name and number written on the deformed paper. "By law I'm obliged to call the next of kin of a child that loses her parent or parents," she explained, taking a glance at the bathroom door. Still no sign of Nadia. Dienna looked back to the teen and caught his gaze with her own. "I contacted her Grandmother. She's coming to pick her up from her Father's house on January 16th, when Mike's will is going to be read."

Nick absorbed the information without reaction, finding his eyes staring into the paper as if it could burn the name written there. Adeline Wright. Given the different surname, he assumed it was the Grandmother from her Mother's side of the family. Mixed feeling swam around his stomach, and he couldn't place if he felt relieved, upset or even regret as he read the name once more, forcing his eyes to focus on the paper. "And you haven't told Nadia yet?"

Though slightly taken aback the teen did not raise his eyes with the question, Dienna shook her head before replying. "No. As far as I know, she's never met her Grandmother. I didn't want to upset her more than she already was…"

It was then Nadia emerged from the bathroom, and Nick slipped the paper into his pocket before turning around to face her. She'd changed into the clothes and shoes he'd brought, the old ones held haphazardly between her hands before her. She also seemed to have run her fingers through her hair to tame some of the fizz, and splashed some cold water on her face. Her smile still looked measured, but her face lit up with it, and Nick couldn't help smiling back.

"Sorry I took so long," the girl stated, holding out the messy bundle of clothes to her brother, who put down the clipboard and the bag he'd only just recovered to take them. He turned and placed them on the nurses' station, attempting to fold them, so they would fit in the bag nicely. "I wanted to look…I don't know, presentable, I guess. It's the first time I'm going to properly meet everyone."

Turning to look at his sister, he caught uncertainty in her eyes, and he found himself resting the pants he was supposed to be folding down as if they weighed a ton. Here stood a girl who's whole life had just been turned upside-down and torn inside-out, but here she was, dressed in her best and nervous about meeting what Fang would tentatively call their new family.

He smiled a genuine smile. Second one since the incident. "You look beautiful."

He was glad to see a smile spread across his sister's face and, though a tear escaped from one corner of her eye, he could tell it was from a sort of warped happiness about the current situation. Nick finished folding the clothes in front of him and lay them neatly in the bag. Then he grabbed both that and the clipboard, nodded once to Dienna as a thank you for all her help, then headed off down the corridor with his sister to join the rest of their family.


	69. Acceptance

_It's been a few days or so, but here's another one. _

_The last emotional-character-development-semi-filler before some fluff kicks in, amongst a few other things._**  
**

_Enjoy. x_

**Chapter 69**

Passing through the ward with his sister's hand in his, Fang realised he'd forgotten what bed Max was in. He found himself checking every cubicle they passed that had the curtains open for a sign of Max or the kids. They got to the end of the first corridor without any success, and Nick glanced down the two adjoining corridors, trying to recall which way he was supposed to go.

It was then Nadia took over, giving her brother a reassuring smile and leading him down the corridor on the right. As they walked those last few feet to Max's cubicle, Nick looked down at the back of her head; her hair knotted and damp, finger combed to within an inch of decency, bobbing between her shoulder blades as she walked.

Despite the short amount of time he had known her, just like Max and her family, Nadia had wormed her way into his heart. He felt like he'd known his step-sister their entire lives- memories without her felt peculiar, as he he'd dreamt them, his home back in the south a dream rather than a memory.

Three weeks, and Nadia would be gone.

Without having any siblings beforehand, Nickolas' grasp on sibling relationships was mainly based on the interactions of those of his friends and their siblings. Most of them fought about almost everything, he remembered as Nadia pulled back Max's curtain. He had never felt the desire to fight with Nadia, and had never experienced Max's siblings squabbling.

She was awake, he noticed, as Nadia stepped aside to let him into Max's small cubicle of privacy. Her eyes were closed, but a hand rested between Angel's curls, her fingers gently stroking the back of the girls' hair while she buried her face in Max's neck. On her other side, close to the bed and gripping her other hand in what appeared support for the injured party but probably as much for him than her, was Gasman.

Iggy sat on a chair placed slightly to the side of the bed, an arm rested along his thigh and the other folded across it, his back bent to stoop over his legs. He tapped a long finger on his knee with a slow rhythm that paused when he heard the curtain open, and he straightened slightly in his seat, eyes expertly trained on Fang's face.

"That bastard did this to her?" The blind teen asked, his face creased somewhere between anger and incomprehension. Beside him, Nadia flinched and took a step back towards the curtain. The noise drew Iggy's attention to her position beside Nick, though his gaze was slightly too high for the girl, and his face softened. "I'm sorry, Nadia. I didn't mean-"

"It's ok." She interrupted him sharply, taking a deep breath, warding off the tears in her eyes. She glanced at Max to see her eyes now open and focused on her face. Inside she wanted to defend her Father, the child he had nurtured screaming at her to slap the boy before her around the face and storm out, but she knew she was clinging to a dead reality. "He was a bastard," she stated, holding Max's eyes, willing the tears to stay put as she clenched her fists by her sides in both anger and frustration. "And I'm sorry."

It was all she said before she sat on the floor where she stood, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face within her leggings. She shrugged off the hand Nick rested on her shoulder and shuffled slightly away from him without looking up, leaving the teenager with an unused gesture of kindness and a concerned frown plastered across his face.

Continuing to stroke the back of Angel's head, Max found herself staring at Nadia across the cubicle, separated from the bustle of the hospital by simple curtains. There was more feeing in her eyes than she had managed to put into words, Max could tell. Having lived with the blind for so long, facial expressions could be hard for them to learn correctly, and as such a lot of feeling often came from their eyes.

Nadia had been apologising for a lot of things in those three words.

She gently tapped Angel's back, pulling her attention to her face, before silently motioning for the girl to shift to the floor. As much as she hated asking for it, she motioned Fang over to the side of the bed, and silently coaxed him into helping her to her feet. A lot of silent eyebrow raising and head-moving later, he reluctantly swung an arm around her shoulder and supported her bad leg.

A glance at Gasman told him they'd need his seat, and he was out of it like a shot. "There," the teen motioned with her good arm, allowing Fang to take a little too much of her weight as she stumbled, sucking in a whimper. Gary placed the seat where she pointed, in front of Nadia, and held it firm while Nick deposited the teen on it.

Once again the mocha girl shook off a hand on her shoulder, so instead Max traced her fingers along her hairline, tucking some wayward strands behind her ear. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She found herself whispering, for a reason unknown to her. Fang's hand found its way onto her own shoulder. "Nothing that happened is your fault."

Two eyes appeared above the knees, wisps of hair shrouding her petite face from proper view. "Thank you," Max continued softly, using a finger to wipe a few tears from her now exposed cheekbones. "Thank you for warning us he was coming, so I could get my family safe."

She went to hide her face in her knees again, but Max caught her cheek with her hand, gently coaxing more of her face from the folds of her leggings. Nadia allowed her to raise her head from her knees until her hand could graze under her chin, holding her head up so their eyes were level. Alongside gratitude were a lot of emotions swimming through Max's eyes; her family were her life, and keeping them safe was everything to her.

"I'm sorry about your Father," the teen continued, and the simple mention of the man had fresh tears bubbling at the surface. Kindness swept across the other emotions and flooded Max's eyes. "I know he was kind to you, until today." The mocha girl nodded lightly into her hand, aware that tears were carving a way down her cheeks, spilling into Max's palm, but she didn't seem to care.

"Losing your Dad is tough," she said gently, and Nadia felt herself crack inside.

Max ignored the pain to lean forward, running a hand over the girl's hair as tears spilled down her cheeks. She no longer buried her face in her knees but lent her chin upon them, her face screwing up in heartbreak. The teen offered her the occasional gentle reassurance, but she let Nadia cry all the tears she had within her, until he sobs were the dry heaves of the chest of someone who has lost both the physical presence and the memories of one she held dear in one morning.

More than anything, Nadia wanted to be held. Her tough exterior was cracked and brittle, revealing the true twelve year old below, tender and lost without her Dad. When Max opened her arm to her in a gesture of kindness, she took the one-armed hug without any questions, sniffing into the teen's neck as if it were her Mother's, holding her tightly as if she could save her from everything corrupt in the world.

The teen simply held the girl to her, feeling her chest heave through more silent sobs, and rested her cheek against the girl's damp hair. Max rubbed the small of her back and whispered whatever she could to comfort her, ignoring the pains such an embrace caused to provide the simple reassurance of someone to hold Fang had given her when her own Father had passed away.

When Nadia finally did pull away again, she caught the mocha girl's eyes with her own, allowing a gentle smile to play on her face, despite her own mental turmoil from this morning. Nadia returned it, which was reassuring, and tucked an ever-stray hair back behind her ear as she stood up. Max took a deep breath, held her rib and cringed from the pain, before tapping the arm of her chair with her good hand.

"Now, someone go find a doctor, so we can get out of his hell-hole and back home." She stated, a large smile Nick could tell was over exaggerated beyond her real enthusiasm. When she went to stand, he had to plant a hand on her shoulder, keeping her seated until she had a wheelchair. He got glared at briefly, but he simply smirked back, knowing it was for her own good.

"We have a Christmas to prepare for." She continued, turning her smile to the newest member of her family. Nadia's smile even reached her eyes this time. "All of us."


	70. Preparing for Christmas

_Alrighty, here's a mostly happy holiday update for you. And may I say how odd it feels to be writing about Christmas when it'shitting 31C outside and I want to dunk myself in some ice water. But there you go - Christmas has come to FanFiction five months early for you guys, or at least Christmas Eve has._**  
**

_Enjoy~_

**Chapter 70**

By the time Max was cleared to leave the hospital, the rain had stopped and the sun was peering through the grey clouds, illuminating the street. They took the back exit to accommodate Max's wheelchair, on loan until the New Year. She'd been released with strict instructions not to walk anywhere for the next week, when she was to return to the hospital to trade her wheelchair for some crutches. This was to give her leg some extra rest and allow her arms some healing time before she stressed them.

The last to leave the hospital, Nick paused in the doorway, taking a breath of the crisp winter air as it slapped him in the face. The sun was barely touching the chill on this winter afternoon. As he stared at the sun struggling to get through he found a small smile touching his lips, turning his mouth up slowly until he was almost grinning at the sky.

Everything suddenly seemed brighter; the puddles on the ground shone with colour they reflected from the weak sunshine; the freezing air caressed his face, reminding him he was alive; even the grey sky and sidewalk seemed to gleam with a new awakening.

"Nick, come on!" The call was from Angel, who had paused half way down the slope to wait for him, waving her arms excitedly at the prospect of Christmas being just around the corner. Fang had to admit that a little skitter of happiness went through his stomach at that realisation too. As he jogged down the steps to catch up with everyone, he even forgot what had happened that morning and felt joy flood his thoughts.

Mike was dead. Finally, he felt free.

oOoOo

Using Gary's arms as a general measure, it was decided before they tried to haul Max and her wheelchair up the steps to their house that the chair simply wouldn't fit through the door. The teen made her excuses and started trying to stand, whereupon it was Iggy who planted a firm hand on her shoulder to hold her down, preventing her from going against the doctor's wishes. Max crossed her arms and blew out a puff of steam in the freezing air.

"What are you going to do, then?" She asked incredulously, forgetting the sarcastic glance she added as she looked up at the blind boy would be wasted. His hand had remained on her shoulder but lost its pressure, and he hadn't even looked down at her to gauge where to place it. "Widen the door with a sledgehammer?

It was then Nick slipped an arm around her shoulders, and for a second Max thought he was going to help her hobble through the door, so they could collapse the wheelchair and bring it through. She even moved to place her feet on the ground. Then his other arm found its way under her thighs and the original fell behind her back - with one swift movement, he removed her from the chair and held her tightly against his chest.

The blind teen's hand fell from her shoulder as the girl was lifted, and he turned to face her new position, an eyebrow cocked. His brain then concocted an image of what probably happened, and his face fell into a grin. "I'm assuming someone picked her up. Either that or she learned to fly."

Fang rolled his eyes, readjusting Max's weight in his arms. She was light, but his muscles complained, since they hadn't fully recovered from the morning's exertions yet. "Yes, Igs, she learned to fly. Now can we go inside before we turn to icicles on the front patio?"

Iggy held up his hands in mock defence, before dropping them to the wheelchair. He found the little clasps holding the seat open by running his deft fingers along the metal and fabric, then it was a simple case of popping them open and snapping the wheelchair shut like one would a book. He hefted the lightweight frame under his arm, slipped his fingers through the spokes of the wheels, and walked into the open doorway with practiced precision.

Behind them, Nudge found her mouth slightly open. "He _is_ blind, right?" The amazement was clear on her face when Nick turned to face her. He smirked at the confused look on her face and nodded in confirmation. The mocha girl looked back into the doorway, shook her head in slight amazement and headed up the steps into the house.

Glancing down, Nick noticed a pink colour creeping onto Max's cheeks, and he wondered if it was the fault of embarrassment or simply the cold weather. She was looking up at him, and a slight crease appeared between her eyebrows as a small smile found its way onto his face. Her cheeks turns a deeper red and she averted her eyes from his, confirming the cold wasn't the culprit.

"This would be easier," he whispered as the youngest two followed Nadia into the house "if you put an arm around my shoulder." He tried to keep the pain from his voice, but the look Max sent him as she tried to move her arm over his shoulder told him he hadn't managed it. She herself bit her lip against the pain that shot through her arm with the movement, but once it was settled behind his neck it eased, and she allowed herself a deep breath.

"I could have walked," she said softly as he took the steps up to the door. She felt him shrug beneath her arm before angling himself sideways to avoid the doorframe, and Max tucked her head into his neck to help him as he guided her through the gap. Nick bumped the door closed with his hip, then did the same to maneouver them into the living room.

The coffee table had been pushed aside and Iggy securing the clips in place on the now open wheelchair. Once that was completed, Max was placed with what she deemed as a little too much care into the seat, and Nick planted a short, simple kiss on her forehead once she was settled. "The doctor said no walking, remember?" He commented, gently stroking the back of her hand before straightening up. He noticed the kids stood in the far corner, and Max noted with a slight sadness that there should have been a Christmas tree there by now.

In normal tradition of the house, the tree would have gone up exactly a week before Christmas, and decorating it would have been a massive family event. Due to the different circumstances with year, what with Nick staying over and the concerns of Mike finding where they were, Max had completely forgotten to get the tree down. The kids had been so excited about Christmas already they hadn't noticed, and as such the corner remained bare.

Max checked the clock on the mantelpiece. It was four thirty, and there was a lot to be done.

oOoOo

The next three hours in the Martinez household was spent in laughter as Christmas was finally welcomed into their home. Fang went up into the attic and passed down all the decorations to Iggy and Nudge, who handed them onto Gasman and Angel downstairs to open and rummage through.

At last, buried at the back behind everything else, came the tree, which Nick carried down himself to avoid any age or blind related mishaps on the stairs. He laid the box across the sofa and carefully extracted the plastic flat-pack, battered and broken from many years of use. As soon as it was in the corner, it began to feel much more like the holiday season. Everyone paused to look at it, just for a second, to let the warm feeling of Christmas trickle into their consciousness.

With that chore done, Nick had borrowed some backpacks and bags, pulled his coat back on and headed out into the cold to retrieve presents for himself and Nadia to place under the tree. This left Nadia and Iggy to help the kids decorate the higher parts of the tree, where they could not reach. Max felt slightly distanced from everything as she sat in her chair, able only to roll closer to the excitement rather than hep decorate the upper parts of the tree, as she usually did.

Little Angel then handed her a decoration, a little icicle that shone in the dying afternoon light. Their father had bought this when they were on the one and only holiday Max remembered the family ever having, before Angelica and Gasman were even born. It always got pride of place at the front of the tree, somewhere in the middle, where everyone could see and admire it. Over the years it had become a token of their mother; it was one of the last times Max remembered seeing her truly happy.

When she looked up, the girl had a warm smile on her face, the spirit of Christmas hot in her veins. "I can't find a special place to put it," she said, motioning to the tree. "Why don't you try?"

Returning the smile, Max wheeled herself directly in front of the tree. It was covered in brightly coloured tinsel and baubles that neither matched nor complemented each other, but it glistened and shone in reds, blues and golds that reminded all her family of Christmases past. Careful not to put any weight on her legs and while Angel held the chair steady, Max used her less-damaged arm push herself up a little, extending the reach of her other arm so she could place the icicle exactly where she felt it deserved to go.

The ache in both arms was worth setting the icicle. As she returned to her seat, Max found herself smiling stupidly at the tree before her, absorbing its presence as if she needed it simply to survive. Everyone stood around it with equally goofy smiles on their face, even Iggy, who was running his fingers ever so lightly over the familiar tinsel and decorations, his own memories of sound and touch playing within his brain.

Next came numerous trips up and down the stairs to retrieve presents, which were safely packed away into different rooms by their purchasers. It took almost half an hour to track them all down and move them under the tree, why which time Nick returned with presents for him and his step-sister, and existing piles of presents were moved to make room for the extra ones. By the time they were finished, the base of the plastic pine was obscured by bright paper and sparkling boxes, adding to the feeling of Christmas.

"Wait," came Gary's voice as everyone admired their handiwork. He turned and dropped next to a box that had been forgotten on the sofa long ago, reaching from the only thing left within it. When he removed his hands, it was holding an old, faded metal star with a coiled bottom. The child stood, taking slow steps back towards the tree, his eyes glued to the old ornament. "Someone still needs to put the star up," he said, a gentle sadness in his words. "Dad always…"

He trailed off, pausing next to the wheelchair, his eyes still on the ornament. Resting her hand on his shoulder, Max wished she could get up and hug him, but instead she moved her hand to his hair and played with his soft, almost white-blonde curls before moving her hand to his chin and lifting his face to hers.

She offered the young lad a smile, but it was laced with a sadness she couldn't hide, and strained on her lips to prevent more than a flickering reassurance. "This year has been difficult," she said gently, holding his gaze. Tears threatened at the corner of her eyes, making them glisten and damp, but she blinked them back. She glanced up at Nick, who had his arm around Nadia's shoulder in silent support. When she looked back at the little boy, he still held her gaze, but a single tear was carving a path down his cheek.

She caught it with her finger, wiping it away. "Sometimes life is just hard," she said in a whisper, stroking her youngest brother's cheek with gentle fingers. "And while we will always miss people we lose, we should always be grateful for what we have." She turned again to look at Nadia, who also had tears playing at the corner of her eyes. She sniffed hard and held them back, and Nick squeezed her shoulder, resting his head on hers. She felt Gary turn his head too, and hoped he understood everyone in the room had gone through a loss this year.

A spark of realisation swept across his eyes, and he glanced down at the star in his hands. So much had changed in his life in the last few months, nothing seemed to be real. And yet here he stood with his family, the same old Christmas star in his hands, and he wondered how he could ever believe this was just a fantasy. For the first time since his death, it really sunk in that his Father was never coming home.

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't. He couldn't. He had to be strong for his sisters.

Raising his eyes once again, he held out the star to the two newcomers in the corner. When nether of them stepped forwards to take it, he closed the distance between them himself and placed the star in Nadia's hand. He was unsure what she had lost, but he could see in her face it was as important to her as his Dad had been to him, and he wanted her to forget her pain.

He took Nick's hand and placed it on top of the star, smiling as the two teens entwined their fingers around the ornament and shared a second of understanding between siblings, a bond strengthened by the loss they had both experienced. Gary took a step back to admire it, not wanting to intrude on the moment, and only when they looked back at him did he speak.

"You should put the star up," he said, more confidence in his voice than he felt within him. He managed a smile and tucked his hands in his pockets. He glanced back at Max, who was also smiling, pride written across her face as she nodded in approval of the notion. He looked back at the pair before him. "To remember those we lost and to welcome you into our family."

Nick smiled at the lad, taking his hand from Nadia's to ruffle the boy's hair. Everyone seemed to be wearing a smile as he lifted his sister up by the waist to plant the star at the very top of the tree, pride of place and shining even under the lights of the house, the last of the sunlight having already receded for the evening. When Nadia's feet touched the floor once again, Angel ran to the other side of the room to flick off the lights, so they could enjoy the glistening of the lights on the tree amongst the bright colours of tinsel and decoration.

In the semi-darkness, Max put an arm around the two youngest of her siblings, one on each side of her wheelchair. Behind her, the remaining siblings put an arm around each other's waists, enjoying the sight of the tree completed, twinkling in all its glory, shouting to everyone in the room that Christmas was so close, you could smell it on the air.

And what a wonderful Christmas it was going to be.


	71. End of an Era: Authors Note

_I know fanfiction frowns upon Author Notes, so I'll make this quick._

_After reviewing the content I have left to write, as well as how nicely the last chapter rounded everything else up, concluded the main plot arc of the story and added a warm, fluffy feeling to many people's insides, I have decided that it will be the **last chapter **of this story. This story will be continued in a sequel, with a new main story arc, continuing on from this one, when I have enough written and planned to get it started._

_Secrets and Sacrifices has finally come to an end._

_I would like to thank everyone that has added this story to their favourites and their alert, as well as adding me to these lists as an author. It was these kinds of things that encouraged me to continue writing and finally be able to reach this stage with the story. So thank you. I would also like to extend gratitude to all the reviewers, regular and otherwise, as constructive criticisms and kind words always drive one to continue writing._

_I'm glad so many enjoyed this story. I will post an update here when the first chapter of the sequel is released on fanfiction, so if I'm not on your author list there's no concern about missing it. I'm not entirely sure what it will be called yet, or I'd give you a heads up to look out for it._

_Again, thank you. It has been a pleasure writing for you._

_~Millicent Kittan_


	72. Sequel Is Up

Hello people, long time no see.

The sequel is up! The title is currently a work in progress, so my profile may be the best way to get to the fic if you're reading this weeks after its been published, but it is currently known as 'Love, Loss and Loyalty". Thank you all again for the reviews and for following me the whole way through this fic. I hope the sequel is just as interesting for you.

~MillieKittan


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